It's About Time

Chapter Twenty-One.

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Harry paced impatiently back and forth in the Hogwarts Owlry. Hedwig should have returned by now but perhaps, Harry thought, this was a good sign. Maybe Hedwig had been delayed because Hermione had actually decided to respond to one of his letters for the first time in the two weeks since she had been released from St. Mungo’s.

One could hope, at least.

Harry shuffled his feet and tightened his coat around him to ward off the winter chill. Just when he was ready to give up and head back, a flutter of white overhead caught his eye. Hedwig whooshed into the Owlry with a small rodent in her beak, obviously having returned fresh from the hunt.

“I’m guessing that means there’s no response from Hermione then?” Harry questioned the snowy owl who was settling upon a perch in the corner. The bird regarded Harry for a second as if to say, “Sorry, mate” and turned back to her meal.

“Ruddy bird,” Harry mumbled under his breath. He tightened his scarf around his neck and began trudging back through the snow to the castle.

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“Hermione! Sweetheart, dinner’s ready!” Mrs. Granger called.

She wiped her hands on her apron and exited the kitchen. She waited at the foot of the stairs but heard no reply from her daughter’s room above.

“Hermione? Come on down!”

She cocked her head to side, listening for her daughter’s voice. Again, she heard nothing. She sighed and began to climb the stairs slowly.

“Hermione?” She called again as she reached the top of the staircase.

A dull thud could be heard at the far end of the hall. Hermione’s bedroom.

“Sweetheart?”

Another thud.

Mrs. Granger knocked lightly on the door before slowly pushing the door open. At first glance, she couldn’t even tell if the room was occupied. The entire floor was buried beneath an awe-inspiringly huge pile of books. One stack was heaped so high it was actually completely obscuring one of the windows.

“What in heaven’s name…”

“Mum!” Hermione appeared suddenly from behind one of the more precarious looking tiers of books. “Why didn’t you knock?”

“Hermione! I did knock and I have been calling you for over ten minutes! What are you doing out of bed, young lady?”

Hermione pushed her unruly hair off her face and used the surrounding books to support herself as she rose to her feet.

“Mum, I have done nothing but lay in bed for the entire two weeks I have been here. Not to mention the month I was in the hospital before that. I can’t possibly lie still for any longer. I’ll go mad!” Despite her protest, it was readily apparent that Hermione was exhausted. Her strength, while getting better, was not yet at the level it once had been. “I just had to do something with myself.”

Her mother glanced around at the jumble of various books. “I can see that, dear. What is it you are busying yourself with here?”

Hermione sat on the edge of her bed and looked around the room at her own personal library, avoiding her mother’s acute stare. “I was hoping to organize the books I would like to keep and those that I won’t be needing any longer.”

Mrs. Granger followed Hermione’s gaze to the now visible separation of the books. In one pile, marked ‘Keep’, were volumes of classic literature, science and history books. The second pile contained every school book Hermione had ever used at Hogwarts; tome after tome of titles such as Magical Theory, A Beginner’s Guide to Potions, and Defensive Spells and How to Use Them. Upon this stack was a slip of paper bearing the words ‘Discard’, in Hermione’s neat script.

The older woman sighed and crossed the room, stepping over a number of books to sit beside her solemn-looking daughter. “Hermione, you know how pleased your father and I are that you have been here these two weeks. We couldn’t be more delighted to have you back but… not at the expense of your happiness. If it were up to me, you would stay here forever – ”

“-Perhaps I will.”

“No, you won’t. I cannot pretend to understand what you have been through, my dear, but you are still my daughter and I do know that living here, away from your friends, is not what you want. Go back to school, Hermione,” She urged tenderly.

“I’m not sure that I can.”

“Of course you can! In his letter, Headmaster Dumbledore said that Hogwarts would welcome you back whenever you felt you were ready.”

“It isn’t that, Mum.” Hermione did not know how she could even begin to explain everything to her mother. “I’m sorry but you just wouldn’t understand.”

“Oh,” Her mother replied, looking wounded that she couldn’t truly be a part of her daughter’s life, at least not where the magical world was involved. “Would… you like me to call or to come over instead?”

“No,” Hermione said apologetically. “No, mum. It isn’t… I – I’m just tired, I think. You’re right, I should get some rest.”

Mrs. Granger rose slowly to her feet and looked around the room once more, feeling helpless that she couldn’t do anything to ease her daughter’s obvious pain. “Of course, dear. Get to bed and I will save dinner for you to eat later.”

“Thank you, Mum.”

Hermione watched her mother leave. She wished so badly that she could feel that she belonged in this world; that she could be contented to stay among Muggles forever, but she was a witch and it would only be so long before she would have to return to the world she was meant to be a part of. Purging her room of any reminders of the magical world would never change that.

She glanced toward the window, partially hidden by her books, and slid the glass pane open a few inches. She reached for a sack on her desk and pulled out five owl treats which she placed on the windowsill before shutting the glass against the bitter chill that nipped at her fingers. If any of her friends’ owls returned again the next day at least they wouldn’t go hungry.

Hermione sighed and sat in her desk chair. She looked over the pile of parchment letters she’d received from her friends in the past weeks. Not one had been answered; she regretted this fact but she had no idea what to say to anyone or how to reply to their many questions. She was embarrassed for not returning to Hogwarts and for having left the hospital without explaining herself to anyone and she was still having a difficult time readjusting to the shock of returning to her own time so abruptly… especially when so much had changed. Above all, she could not even begin to wrap her exhausted mind around why Sirius had treated her the way that he had. She had done something… but what?

She reached for a pen and a sheet of the embossed stationary she’d received from her parents years ago but never used because she had only ever needed parchment. The pen felt heavy and foreign to her after using a quill for so many years. She laughed to herself at this, how the most ordinary things had come to seem so odd. It reminded her of Mr. Weasley.

She tapped the pen one, two, three times as she considered how to start her letter. With careful thought, Hermione began to write.

“Dear James,

I am sorry I have not responded to either yours or Lily’s letters until now. Furthermore, I apologize

that I am writing to ask a favor of you…”

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Two days later, at precisely four in the afternoon as was planned, the fireplace of James and Lily Potter’s London home erupted in green flames, halting the conversation between the four adults already present in the room.

James, Remus, and Lily stood to greet Hermione as she stepped out of the hearth and into the Potter’s sitting room.

“Hermione,” James greeted the young woman with a warm smile and crossed the room to embrace her. “It’s good to see you.”

“Thank you, James,” Hermione said with a tentative smile.

Remus stepped forward and began to offer his hand to shake Hermione’s but, instead, wrapped her in a hug as well. “You’re looking well, Hermione. How have you been?”

“I… I’ve been resting quite a bit as the healers instructed,” Hermione answered, skirting around giving a more detailed answer. She could already tell from the looks on the men’s faces that they were concerned about her.

Tonks, who remained seated on the sofa, grinned over at the younger girl. “I would give you a hug too but I’m a giant, pregnant whale and can’t get up from the bloody couch without Remus’ help.” Hermione cracked a genuine smile at Tonks’ irreverent humor and went over to give her a hug.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Hermione,” Lily said with a maternal overtone. “Please, have a seat.”

Hermione perched herself on the armchair nearest the fireplace and glanced around at the group before her. It was a rather unsettling predicament in which she found herself. On the one hand, she had become very close with James and Remus while she was with them at Hogwarts, or the seventeen year old versions of themselves, at least.

But now she was faced with the adult versions of the very same men and felt that she must also act like an adult.

She wasn’t sure at all how to behave in front of Lily. Though Lily Evans had never been anything but perfectly kind to Hermione while they were at Hogwarts together, Hermione suddenly felt ashamed for having harbored feelings for James while knowing full well that he and Lily were supposed to be together.

Lily sensed Hermione’s discomfort and broke the silence.

“Can I offer you something to drink, dear? Tea?”

“No, thank you, Lil- … um, Mrs. Potter.”

“Lily,” She corrected. “Please call me Lily.”

“Of course. Thank you, Lily.” Hermione said nervously. She shifted her gaze to James. He had been more than pleased to have her over when she asked to meet with him but she had hoped that they would be able to meet in private. The pitying looks she was receiving from those present would only be made worse if they knew how hurt she was by Sirius’ behavior.

As though she could hear these thoughts, Lily said, “Nymphadora, why don’t we leave these three to talk amongst themselves?”

“Are you bloody joking?” Tonks scoffed. “I’ve only just gotten into a position that doesn’t make some part of my body ache! Isn’t it enough that my git of a husband dragged me here from bloody Hogwarts? If you think I’m going to be moving my arse even one centimeter, you will be sorely disappointed.”

Remus chuckled under his breath. “I think what my wife is trying to say is – ”

“- I’m not bloody well going anywhere,” Tonks finished.

“And we wouldn’t dream of asking you to,” James said with an exaggerated bow. He gestured to Remus and Hermione then to the kitchen, “Shall we?”

Hermione nodded to Lily and Tonks, and followed James and Remus through the kitchen and out onto the grounds. It had snowed the night before and the vast expanse of lawn was frosted white, a perfect carpet of ivory all the way up to the border of imposing willow trees that enclosed the property.

A smooth cherry wood table and four cushioned chairs were nestled in a small brick courtyard off the side of the large estate home. Hermione noticed with relief that the courtyard seemed to have a heating charm in place already. She immediately felt the tender warmth on her skin as though she were bathed in sunlight. James led them to the table and Hermione took a seat across from he and Remus.

Hermione took in her surroundings for a few moments. “You have a beautiful home, James.”

James and Remus exchanged a glance.

“What is it?” Hermione asked.

“It’s nothing really,” James began. “Just that, you have been here so many times before… I keep forgetting that everything must seem so out of place for you.”

“Oh… yes, it does.”

James shifted in his seat, he was sure he’d just said the wrong thing. “I was really happy to hear back from you. We had all begun to worry.”

“Especially when we heard you wouldn’t be returning to Hogwarts,” Remus, ever the responsible one, chimed in. “You are missed greatly at Hogwarts, Hermione. By us teachers just as much as your classmates, I suspect.”

Hermione appraised Remus’ expression and was saddened to find disappointment in his eyes. Remus was always one with whom she felt a strong connection based on their shared love of learning and she had let him down, it seemed.

“I am sorry to have worried any of you. It isn’t easy for me to stay away, I just – I… I’m very confused by so much of what’s happened. I feel a bit out of place here now.”

“Here, as in the present time?” James asked, his brow furrowed in question.

“Yes.” She looked down at her hands in her lap.

Remus and James’ eyes were on her, observing her, she could sense it. She could also tell that they felt sorry for her. The embarrassment burned in her cheeks as she thought of how pitiful she must seem to them, having run away to her parents’ home rather than facing reality. She forced herself to take a long deep breath and focus on why she was here. It may only make them pity her more but at least she would have answers.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, James. It seems so childish I’m sure that I’ve come to you about this but… I’m afraid I’ve no other choice.”

James smiled and his eyes twinkled playfully. “Trust me, Hermione, you are not the childish one.”

“James…” Remus warned.

“Fine, fine,” James conceded. “That is why Remus is here. I know you asked to see me but I assumed, considering the subject matter, that you wouldn’t mind another old friend shedding some light on this situation for you.”

“Of course not,” Hermione smiled, and fidgeted awkwarly. “So… can you, shed some light on the subject for me? I feel so silly asking but I have to know what I’ve done to make Sirius so angry with me.”

Remus leaned forward comfortingly. “I can assure you with all honesty, Hermione, that Sirius’ behavior is not the result of anything you have done.”

“I’m sorry but I find that very hard to believe. You didn’t see the way he looked at me.”

“But I did,” said James. “I am sorrier than anyone that you had to hear that conversation at St. Mungo’s but it’s no secret that Sirius can be a bit of a hothead when he gets upset.”

“Why is he so upset with me though? How can he so clearly despise me?” Hermione’s voice began to waiver slightly and she cut herself off. “Please just… whatever it is, I need to know.”

Both men were silent as they considered how they might explain Sirius’ conduct when they barely understood it themselves.

It was Remus who spoke first.

“After you were sent back here, to your own time, that is, it was not… easy for Sirius. The circumstances, strange as they may be, are that it has been twenty-two years for us since we were at Hogwarts together whereas for you, it has been just over one month. When we learned that you had been from another time and had thus been sent back, we had no idea when our paths might cross again, if at all.”

“It was hard for all of us,” James agreed. “And we can clearly see that it has not been easy for you either. Sirius, though, didn’t really know how to move on… so in some ways, I guess he never did. Then when you and Harry became friends at school, it was like a ghost from the past or something…”

“A ghost?” Hermione whispered, her eyes widened and she looked to Remus.

“He means that you seemed to appear in our lives again out of nowhere. It was quite a shock. Sirius, though he never explicitly shared these feelings with anyone as far as I’m aware, was distraught. I’m not convinced that he had ever forgotten you to begin with but there you were, suddenly the best of friends with Harry, a bright young girl, yet still the very same Hermione. From that moment on, he knew it was only a matter of time before you would, again, be sent back in time and when you would return – ”

“- I would know what had happened between us.”

“Correct.”

“So… has he… hated me all this time?”

James shook his head fervently. “If Sirius ever thought he hated you it was only to convince himself that he wasn’t in lov – ”

“James,” Again, Remus warned him to watch his words.

“Right.” James began again, “Sirius, more than any of us, was just so curious about you. He wanted to learn who you were before you came into our lives. Then a few months ago you were sent back in time, we all knew where you’d gone but we didn’t know what would happen from that point on. We never knew what exactly happened when you left Hogwarts. Dumbledore could only theorize what had happened.”

Remus tried to find a way to explain the rest of the story to Hermione, “Sirius was… that is while you were gone, he was rather unsettled…”

“He was a wreck,” James stated bluntly.

“Yes, thank you, James,” Remus said sardonically. “He was not in a good place, let’s say. I believe he is feeling somewhat torn between the past and present, much like you are, I’m sure. You are, of course, much younger than he is, he has now been a witness to your coming of age, and I imagine he is struggling with reconciling all of these facts.”

Hermione sat back in her chair. “I see,” she exhaled heavily. “I can’t believe it hadn’t occurred to me that after twenty-two years he may not be so pleased to see me. Who could blame him, when I have interrupted what was probably a very happy life before I came back?”

“You haven’t interrupted anything, Hermione,” James reassured. “You belong here just as much as any one of us.”

She nodded slightly but did not truly believe him. “Do either of you think there is a chance Sirius may change his mind? If you think it best that I simply let him live his life…,” she swallowed hard at the thought, “then I won’t bother him.”

James started to adamantly oppose this idea but Remus stopped him.

“That isn’t for us to say, Hermione,” Remus said. “The only advice I can offer you, is to do with your life what you think is best for you.” He smiled encouragingly.

What was best for her was to be with Sirius, she thought to herself. Now it seemed that, not only was there no chance of that happening but, it was now clear that Sirius was justified in his treatment of her. How inexcusably foolish had she been to think that a man like Sirius Black would waste his life on her? Could she have been so blind to think that everything could be just like it had been in the past?

“I appreciate both of you taking the time to explain everything to me,” Hermione said as she stood up from the table. “Thank you for your honesty.”

“Think nothing of it,” James smiled. “Please don’t vanish on us again though, eh? Keep in touch?”

“Of course. I’ll see myself out. Thank you again, both of you.”

She walked quickly back through the courtyard and disappeared into the house.

James and Remus stood on the snow covered ground and watched her go.

“He still loves her, Remus. She ought to at least know that,” James said, looking toward the house.

“That isn’t for us to say, Prongs. False hope is the last thing Hermione needs now.”

It was quickly growing dark as dusk settled overhead, dark clouds promised another night of heavy snowfall. The two friends headed back into the shelter of the house.

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Hermione felt sick. She was disgusted with herself for being so selfish and expecting Sirius to be waiting for her all these years later. She was ashamed at how weak she was to hide from the Wizarding world. She was horrified that it was her fault Sirius despised her.

After a hasty goodbye to Lily and Tonks, Hermione left the Potter’s home. She did not take the floo back to her parents’ house though. Instead, she departed through the front door and began walking up the path to the main road. The cold air bit at her face and exposed hands but she continued walking, fighting off the harsh chill.

Her head was pounding as a thousand contrasting thoughts swarmed her mind, each screaming at her to listen. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to silence her mind, to force the overcrowded chaos of her consciousness to cease its relentless disturbance.

There was only one thing she was sure of, one thing she knew had to be done.

She owed Sirius Black an apology.

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A quick popping noise echoed off the walls of the homes all along Grimmauld Place. The sleepy street was empty; its residents were tucked away in their homes, sheltered from the bitter winter night. Unseen by muggle eyes, the sole occupant of Number Twelve, was just returning home from a thirty-six hour shift at the Ministry of Magic.

Sirius pushed open the front door of his home and stepped into the pitch dark corridor. He shrugged off his heavy, leather coat and slung it over the rack in the corner. It seemed to be colder inside the house than it was outside on the street, he thought jadedly. He strode through the house, his steps heavy with exhaustion. As he approached the parlor, he waved his wand mechanically and a fire roared to life, casting hard shadows across the otherwise dark room.

Just as he was about to slump into his large, worn armchair, three resounding knocks sounded from his front door. He ignored the disruption, turning back to the fire. Anyone he cared to see would not have bothered to knock. Besides, he was too tired for visitors.

The soothing, heat of the flames had just barely begun to warm his hands when three more raps on the door, again, interrupted him.

A threatening growl escaped his throat as he turned furiously away from the fire. He marched back down the corridor, not bothering to turn on any lights to welcome an uninvited guest.

He wrenched the door open with a snarl but stopped short when his eyes settled on the girl before him. Hermione stood on his doorstep; her cheeks flushed from the cold, snow flakes peppering her brown curls, and her face frozen in fear at the enraged expression on Sirius’ face.

To her, he appeared a staggering figure; a Colossus, imposing as he stood in the shadowy doorway.

For some time, they just stared at one another. Sirius fought to maintain his sensibility, his emotions where Hermione was involved seemed to take on a life of their own.

She shivered. “Hello Sirius.”

He nodded minutely.

“I’m sorry to show up unannounced but I was hoping to speak to you,” Hermione tried to keep her voice somewhat casual but the nervousness on her face gave her away. When he did not respond, she went on, “It will only take a minute.”

Sirius cleared his throat roughly.

“Please,” she urged.

He inhaled sharply and stepped aside to grant her entrance into the gloomy home. She wrapped her arms tightly around her to ward off the bone-chilling freeze and entered the house, stopping directly in front of Sirius in the narrow corridor.

The mere inches between them, the closest they had been in longer than Sirius cared to imagine, were dizzying to him. He was tired but he had to be strong, he reminded himself.

He turned and headed back to the parlor where the warmth of the fire had now begun spreading somewhat through the room. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Hermione treading lightly behind him, her eyes on him questioningly.

He focused his attention on the fire, silently willing her to start saying whatever it was she had to say before he lost his temper or worse, his willpower.

Hermione edged closer to him while still allowing herself a measurable distance. Despite the icy silence, she found comfort in taking in the image of Sirius bathed in the orange light of the fire. She traced the fabric of the armchair with her finger.

“I’m not exactly sure how to start…,” she confessed.

Sirius’ shoulders tensed. “You came all this way. It is probably best if you just say what you need to say.”

There it was. That voice. That rich, deep voice that had never failed to affect her. Despite the hostility of his comment, it was that voice that was almost her undoing.

And then it was as though her legs had a mind all their own. She began moving closer to him. With every step she felt the heat of the fire more intensely. She reached out her hand and lightly touched his arm.

He whirled around, startled. His eyes were ablaze as his gaze seared into her own.

She looked up at him, hurt clouding her eyes, and Sirius felt his restraint slipping away.

He was caught in the crossfire between his desire, which boiled inside of him stronger now than it had over twenty years, and his sense of self-preservation.

His heart began pounding thunderously away in his chest.

“Don’t,” he murmured.

Hermione stared up at him, at his weary face. Her yearning was clearly exposed and she gave up trying to hide it.

“Sirius…” The whisper escaped her lips and Sirius lost all rational thought.

He lost himself.

He reached for her blindly and crushed his lips to hers. His every sense was afire as he secured her firmly against his body.

He was overwhelmed; the scent, the taste, the feel of her… so much more powerful than any memory, so much richer than a dream.

There was no thought in his mind of who they were or who they had been. In place of his consciousness was only the overpowering emotion that forced every last thought from his mind.

Like he never had before, he disappeared into her. Touching her hair, cupping her face, drinking her in, over and over again.

Hermione kissed him back hungrily, her mind conscious of only him, of Sirius. She touched her hands to his chest, reveling in the heat of his body. She clung to him, clutching the front of his shirt in tight fists.

She trembled against him.

And then, as quickly as it had abandoned him, Sirius’ sense returned. Shame and anger rushed over him, swallowing the rapture in which he’d momentarily lost himself.

He dropped his hands and reeled back. The distance between them was not enough though. The room became stifling. He couldn’t breathe. He crossed to the far end of the parlor and turned his back to her, struggling for air, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart.

Hermione shuddered at the sudden chill in the room. “Sirius?” she choked.

When he turned back to her, his face was like stone and his eyes distant.

Her eyes were glazed and her face desperate, he noticed, furious with himself for losing his will, the only weapon he had against Hermione.

She swayed, unsteady on her feet, and gripped the edge of the armchair for balance.

“You should go,” He said, his voice vacant of emotion.

“Go? What are you talking about?”

She looked so vulnerable at that moment that Sirius was flooded with guilt. He swallowed thickly.

The longer he stared into her wounded expression, the more he was engulfed in shame. He fought against the weakness with everything he had, forcing himself to remember the pain she had caused him. His temper began to rise and fury smothered the shame.

Sirius crossed his arms across his chest and glared into the fire.

“Sirius,” Hermione attempted a smile at him. “I came over here tonight to – ”

“What? Ruin me all over again?!” He interrupted, turning his glare on her.

Hermione inhaled sharply. “What are you saying?” Seconds ago she had been elated that Sirius seemed to have come around, that he was willing to give her another chance. She was completely and utterly dumbfounded. “Sirius, say something!”

“I’ve already asked that you go. What more do you want me to say?”

“What I want is for you to explain to me what is going on?” She cried. “A minute ago you were kissing me and now you’re practically throwing me out of your house.”

Sirius ran his fingers roughly through his short, black hair. “I’m not doing this again,” he muttered under his breath.

“Excuse me?” Hermione asked.

Sirius’ detached façade was beginning to crumble. He needed to get rid of her if he had any hope of sparing himself. “I shouldn’t have kissed you. It was wrong of me but, if you feel hurt, you have no one to blame but yourself. I gave you what you wanted.”

Hermione gasped. “What I wanted?”

It took every ounce of his might to keep the emotion out of his voice. “You are a seventeen year old girl caught up in some silly schoolgirl fantasy. What happened between us was over twenty-two years ago, Hermione. I am an adult and you need to move on with your life."

The words, the harsh, horrible words spat from Sirius’ mouth, and knocked the breath from Hermione’s lungs. She sank into the armchair behind her. Every fear that had crossed her mind, every worry about how he might possibly feel about her… all of it had been true. In his own words, it had been confirmed. He hated her. He hated her. He hated her.

Her breathing became ragged. She felt like she was drowning.

Tears welled in her eyes and blurred her view of the embers glowing in the hearth. But just as the sobs threatened to explode out of her, she froze. It was as though the fire dying in the fireplace had ignited within her. Hermione was not going to let this destroy her. She was not going to continue being the weak, pathetic creature she had become.

She stood and faced the devastatingly handsome man who had nearly caused her to forget who she was.

“Look at me,” She said, her voice strong and sure.

Sirius was leaning heavily on the marble mantle. He did not take his eyes off the fading flames.

“Turn around and look at me!”

Sirius was at his breaking point. He had to get away from her. He started towards the corridor but only made it to the doorway before her voice stopped him again.

“You stop right there, Sirius Black, and listen to me!” She rounded on him, her eyes wild. “I am not a child. You cannot ignore me and you cannot speak to me as though I don’t understand the consequences of my actions. You think I ruined you? When I thought I had finally found the person I was meant to be with, I had my entire life uprooted for the second time in months, and you blame me for ruining you?”

Sirius’ hand clenched the doorjamb as he braced himself against the wall, his back to Hermione as she spoke.

She shook her head in disbelief. “I cannot believe that I actually felt sorry for you. I came over here tonight to apologize to you for any hurt I may have caused but you know what, Sirius Black? It is you that owes me the apology. Better yet, save that apology for yourself because the only person who is going to feel sorry for you now, is you.”

The knuckles on Sirius’ hand turned white, he gripped the doorjamb so tightly. It was all he could do to keep from losing it.

“I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this treatment from you but what I do know is that I’m not running anymore. You wanted me to leave so badly, Sirius? Fine, I’m leaving.”

Hermione was shaking as adrenaline coursed through her body. She was furious, and though she was certain that when the adrenaline rush faded the full impact of losing Sirius would hit her, at that moment she felt stronger than she had in recent memory.

She stormed across the room, ready to move on, just like Sirius had told her.

“What are you going to do now?” Sirius’ low voice asked as she exited the room.

She paused only momentarily to announce proudly, “I’m going back to school. I think I owe that much to myself. After all, some prat once told me that I was the brightest witch of my age.”

The ghost of a smile crossed Sirius’ face at the memory. He nodded his head softly. “I did say that once, didn’t I? I'm surprised you remember that.” In an instant it occurred to him that maybe this could work. Maybe he could forget the anger, the pain... maybe...

“Hermione, wait.”

Sirius pushed away from the door and turned around but was met with an empty room. He rushed into the corridor only to find that it, too, was vacant. A snow frosted gust of wind howled through the open doorway at the far end of the hallway.

She was gone.

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A/N: Please take a moment to share your thoughts with me. I love to hear what my readers think!