It's About Time

Chapter 7.
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Later that evening, Hermione found herself standing in front of the full length mirror in her dormitory tugging at her hair. She groaned in frustration, pulling at the curly mess atop her head which stubbornly refused to be tamed. James had followed through on Sirius’ suggestion that they spend some time alone together and had asked her to meet him at dinner so they could go for a walk… he hadn’t exactly called it a date but it was evident when neither could conceal their flushed cheeks and shy smiles, that whatever it ended up being, it was certainly anticipated to be more than a “walk”.

Hermione could hardly contain her excitement... oh yes, the guilt was still there but, denial, she found, was a very powerful tool when one really wanted to ignore that nagging little voice… damned conscience. So, instead she allowed herself to be overpowered by expectation. Expectation that tonight’s meeting would be all she had hoped it could be. It had been next to impossible to concentrate in her lessons all day, a most unusual predicament for her as she generally hung on her professors’ every word.

But at this particular moment she was desperately wishing it had been Lavender and Parvati’s words she had memorized and taken notes on, because she hadn’t the slightest notion how to prepare for a quasi-date with the most popular boy in school. Especially since she couldn’t be within fifteen feet of said boy without her insides doing what felt like aerobics.

She vaguely remembered watching Lavender curl her hair around her wand on a few occasions and was now trying to replicate that action, however, her wand kept becoming tangled in the mess of curls creating an even bigger disaster. She had only ten minutes before she was due to be in the Great Hall for dinner and was quickly becoming hysterical. ‘Why hadn’t she spent less time studying Ancient Runes and more time perusing “Witch Weekly” for make up tips?’ She scolded herself silently.

Her wand was firmly lodged in what now resembled a bird’s nest on the side of her head.

“This is hopeless,” she muttered aloud, glaring at her disheveled reflection.

“What’s hopeless?” answered a kind voice from the doorway.

Hermione swiveled around to see Alice Bruneau standing near the door smiling curiously at her.

Staring back at her roommate, eyes wide in shock and embarrassment, Hermione debated silently whether it was wise to share with Lily’s best friend that she was getting ready to meet James. However, necessity outweighed her need for privacy at that moment and she decided that if she ever wanted to dislodge her wand from the massive knot in her hair then she ought to come clean.

She looked into Alice’s sweet, smiling face that looked so much like Neville’s and burst into tears.

“I’m… I’m supposed to meet James. And my hair is… is… horrible!”

Alice stifled a laugh, covering her mouth with her hand to spare Hermione’s feelings.

“Well,” She began, moving towards the sobbing girl, “If you’ll promise not to tell Lily that I helped you… I will do my best to fix… er… this.” She gestured towards the wand protruding from Hermione’s hair.

Hermione emitted a high-pitched cry of relief and gratitude and threw her arms around her roommate’s neck.

“Oh! Thank you, Alice! I swear! I swear I’ll never tell another living soul that you helped me. I just… I don’t know what to do.”

Alice placed her hands on Hermione’s shoulders and pushed away from her just enough so she could look into her tear-stained face. Smiling warmly at the crying girl in a most maternal fashion, she answered her in a soothing voice, “First of all, you must stop crying. Puffy, red eyes aren’t a great look on you.”

Hermione laughed softly, her tears abating.

“Now. Let’s see what we can do, eh?” And pulling her own wand from within her robes, Alice set to work.

Exactly eight minutes later, Hermione had been transformed. Her hair was now falling loosely down her back in shiny, smooth ringlets. Her brown eyes were lightly accentuated with a shimmery pink eye shadow and a delicate coat of mascara while her lips sparkled with a lightly tinted berry gloss.

Under her robes, Hermione had insisted on wearing her Hogwarts uniform for fear of appearing as though she was “trying too hard”; a pleated skirt that ended a few inches above her knees, a crisp white button down blouse, and knee socks. Alice had compelled her to undo the top two buttons of her shirt, “just in case”. Hermione had done so unwillingly…though, she had to admit, the small bit of décolletage that now showed was quite nice.

She stood gaping at the girl now looking back at her from the mirror. ‘That girl… she’s… rather pretty,’ Hermione thought with astonishment. Her face still bearing an expression of utmost shock, she turned to Alice.

“I don’t know how to tha-” She began but was cut off almost immediately.

“Don’t thank me.” Alice said assuredly. “I know it hasn’t exactly been easy for you, transferring here in your last year. You deserve to have some fun, Hermione.”

This act of selflessness from her roommate nearly brought renewed tears to Hermione’s eyes.

“Don’t you dare start with the water works again after I’ve just done your make up!” Alice laughed.

And with that, she grabbed Hermione’s hand and dragged her out of the room and towards her first date with James Potter.

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Harry awoke to the feeling of a soft hand brushing his hair gently back off his forehead. His eyes fluttered open and even without his glasses he could make out Ginny’s long, silky red hair and porcelain skin.

Not yet noticing that his eyes were open, she reached for a cool, dampened cloth and began to lightly sponge his face. Despite the pressure of everything going on around them in the wizarding world, the sight of her at that moment mixed with the cool water on his warm face soothed him beyond comprehension. It amazed him that just being close to Ginny gave him the confidence to believe that everything would be alright in the end.

The feeling of waking up with her beside him was unlike anything he’d ever imagined. He nearly forgot that he was lying in the Hogwarts hospital wing.

Never taking his eyes off hers, Harry reached his hand up slowly and laid it softly over Ginny’s which was still busy smoothing the cloth over his forehead.

She gave a slight gasp of surprise and her eyes fell to meet his.

“You’re awake,” She said softly.

Harry just stared back at her… mesmerized by the golden flecks dancing in her eyes when she gazed at him so intensely. They were hypnotic.

He wanted to tell her he loved her, that no other girl ever had nor ever would come close to replacing her, that he couldn’t imagine waking up tomorrow without her next to him… but the words wouldn’t come. He could feel them lodged in his throat but they didn’t budge. All he could do was gaze at her… in silent enthrallment.

She removed the cloth from his face, pulling tenderly away from his touch.

“That was some dream you must’ve been having,” Ginny mused.

“What do you mean?” Harry asked quizzically, struggling to remember anything other than the depth and color of her eyes. God forbid, he had been having another dream about long, dark corridors. He’d had more than enough of that sort.

Ginny looked at him penetratingly. “You were murmuring in your sleep. Something about a wedding…,” She answered slowly. “Maybe you just have Bill and Fleur’s wedding on your mind right now… because of Hermione.” She shifted her gaze from him to peer out the window at the autumn sunset.

“I- I did?” Harry inquired, still trying to clear the remaining fog of sleep from his head so he could think properly.

Suddenly, awareness dawned on him as he slowly began to piece together bits of the scenes that had played out in his slumbering mind and remembered precisely what he had been dreaming about. Or rather, who he’d been dreaming about.

“Oh- er… yes! Bill’s wedding. Right.” He lied without much conviction. Because his dream was now projecting itself in his head in flawless detail and it was nothing to do with Bill nor Fleur and everything to do with the girl sitting beside him in the small hospital bed.

He had dreamt of a small yet perfectly resplendent wedding, set beside a lightly rippling lake just before sunset. Overwhelming emotion was in the air as he had seen a bride gliding gracefully up the aisle towards him on the arm of… Mr. Weasley.

“That was it then, was it?” Ginny responded suspiciously, still gazing upward towards the sky.

“Er… Yeah. That was it,” Harry echoed weakly.

“Well, at least you were able to get some rest,” Ginny’s voice pushed the remainder of the dream from his thoughts as she slowly began to rise from the bed.

Harry wanted to tell her. He wanted so badly to share with her the truth of what he had seen in his unconscious slumbering mind. She surely deserved to know how he felt.

After all, everyone else knew.

“No, Gin,” He confessed as reached out for her hands again. “No, that’s not it.”

Though, she allowed his strong hands to capture her own, Ginny looked back at him doubtfully.

It didn’t appear that she was going to respond so Harry, struggling to sit up further in his bed, made use of the silence to continue.

“Ginny, you know how I… I mean, everyone knows that I...”

“Dinner!” Called Ron from the doorway. He was balancing a large tray saddled with dishes on one hand and carrying his chess set in the other. Marching along behind him were Dobby and Winky, each bearing a full tray of their own.

“I’ve brought us dinner, mate,” Called Ron, excitedly as he headed towards Harry’s bed.
Harry fell back against the pillows heaving a defeated sigh.

Ron glanced quickly from Harry’s chagrined visage to Ginny’s slightly flushed yet exasperated expression and, finally, to their joined hands.

“Ah. Sorry…,” He grumbled in embarrassment. “Want me to…?” He jerked his head towards the door.

“It’s fine, Ron,” Ginny answered readily. “Harry just woke up actually.”

“Er… right,” Harry said, taking the cue from Ginny that their conversation was officially over. Then, pasting a feigned grin on his face, he craned his neck to see the trays of food, “So, what’s for dinner?”

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Hermione approached the Great Hall timidly. The clinking of silverware on plates and buzz of conversation informed her that dinner was already in full swing. Alice had gone inside ahead of her… Hermione had held back confessing that she needed a few moments to gather her thoughts.

‘You’re a Gryffindor,’ She told herself sternly. ‘You can certainly handle this.’
Inhaling deeply, she held her head high and walked into the room with what she hoped resembled confidence. She scanned the Gryffindors for a glimpse of James as she moved towards the table.

She saw the back of Remus’ head bowed over an open text book, beside him was Peter eagerly helping himself to roast potatoes. Across from them, Sirius sat speaking earnestly with Frank Longbottom as a group of fifth year girls from the Ravenclaw table were turned around in their seats listening to him and, more than likely, admiring his well-bred good looks.

Sirius looked up as Hermione reached the table and swiftly stood to meet her.

Remus and Peter turned to see what had caught Sirius’ attention and Peter gasped aloud.

“Wow, Hermione. You look really pretty.” He squeaked.

“Thank you, Peter,” she answered sincerely.

Remus furrowed his brow and looked back at Sirius who was still observing Hermione solemnly. Sirius took a few steps around the table and walked towards her.

“Where’s James?” She asked him skeptically as he stopped in front of her. The look he was directing at her was a bit unnerving.

“He isn’t coming,” Sirius said quietly. “An owl arrived not long ago. His father is very sick and… James has gone home to be with him.” His voice faltered slightly as he spoke. Hermione remembered Sirius once telling her how the Potters had taken him in when he’d run away from his parent’s house… they had treated him as a second son and he had loved them as though they were his own family.

“Is it… serious?” She asked, catching herself soon enough to realize that, in this time, she wouldn’t know so many details about Sirius’s life.

“Yeah… Yeah, I think so.” His voice was husky and full of emotion. “He asked me to tell you that he wouldn’t be able to meet you and that he… he’s sorry.”


Hermione nodded silently. She was, of course, disappointed that she and James wouldn’t be spending the evening together but was now overwhelmed with the sadness that James’ father and the man who would never have the chance to be Harry’s grandfather was very ill. Her heart swelled with grief for James, wishing she was able to comfort him somehow.

She looked up at Sirius who tried to appear as though he was casually combing his hair out of his eyes, though at once, she saw that he was attempting to hide his face as he fought to blink back the tears that threatened to spill from his watering eyes.

Ever so slowly, she moved towards him, as though he were an animal that would be easily frightened.

“Sirius…?” Hermione inquired tenderly.

He shook his head indicating that he didn’t want to talk just then. Then, with just a sad smile in Hermione’s direction, he shoved his hands in his pockets and turned and walked out of the Great Hall.

She stood frozen in place for a moment watching his retreating form. The sadness in his eyes had shaken her to the core. The Sirius she knew… the much older Sirius, had reflected loneliness and, sometimes, regret from his eyes when caught unaware but never defeat. And it was this that scared her and incited her to go after him.

She walked briskly into the Entrance Hall and spun around looking for any sign of him. Movement near the large doorway caught her eye. Sirius was walking so quickly through the grounds that Hermione had to jog to keep him within view. Far down the hill, she could just make him out as he came to rest beneath a familiar Beech tree beside the lake.

She caught up with him a few minutes later slightly out of breath. She stood a few yards away just watching him for a bit, his solemn profile was illuminated by the autumn sunset reflecting off the water as he sat with his arms resting on his knees leaning against the trunk of the large tree. The golden lights interlaced with his rich, black hair as he bowed his head and rested his chin on his arms.

Hermione shuffled her feet, pondering whether she should just let him be. The rustling of the fall leaves in the stillness of the evening had startled Sirius and he turned to see her standing awkwardly a short distance away.

His eyes met hers then just as suddenly he turned and looked back over the water
“Hello,” He said distantly.

Hermione took a few more steps towards him and said, “Do you mind if I sit?”

He glanced at her briefly out of the corner of his eye and shook his head.

She slowly sat down beside him on the bed of leaves, watching him as she did. This version of Sirius, so overcome with grief, was heart wrenching to witness. She searched her mind for words of comfort, anything she could say to take some of his pain away, but there was nothing.

So, she did all she could do to offer him comfort. She sat.

And as she sat beside him in silence, the breeze from the lake lightly ruffling their hair, his sorrow was somehow communicated between them. Hermione found herself lost in a labyrinth of emotion… the knowledge that she may never again see Harry and Ron, nor her parents… the intensity of her feelings for James… and now Sirius’ pain melded together and she was gone, lost in her memories as she gazed over the rippling surface of the lake. The emptiness in her heart that she had tried in vain to push out of her mind a month ago was aching so badly she felt it hard even to breathe.

How long they were sitting there, she didn’t know but when she looked up from the water, she saw that the sun had almost completely retreated behind the trees of the Forbidden Forest.

Her hand reached up to brush away a tear that had unknowingly fallen down her cheek and she become aware that she was crying.

Sirius shifted beside her and he leaned back until he was lying completely flat on his back against the cool ground. Hermione felt cold as he moved away from her and she realized how closely they had been sitting. He lay very still as he gazed up at the stars, their lights mirrored in his dark eyes.

“Lay down, Hermione,” He said, his hoarse voice indicating that he too had been crying.

Sirius stretched his arms above him, folding one upon which he rested his head and the other reached out to his side. After a brief moment’s hesitation, Hermione let herself rest against the ground at the foot of the tree. She could feel the emanating warmth from his body and almost as if they were magnetically drawn together, her head came to rest on the shoulder of his outstretched arm as she relaxed into him.

Once again they fell into silent contemplation, allowing themselves to find comfort in one another. Sirius’s hand rested on Hermione’s arm and he brushed his fingers softly over her smooth skin. She shivered.

“Are you cold?” He asked, not taking his eyes away from the dark sapphire sky.

Hermione turned her face towards him, glad that he hadn’t noticed that he was the reason she had shivered.

“No,” She said plainly, studying his handsome features mutely. She had never seen him at such close proximity.

Sirius raised his hand from Hermione’s arm and pointed it towards a spot in the sky above them. There was one star so bright, the others paled beside it.

“That’s Sirius,” He informed her proudly. “Everyone in my family is named after a star. That one is mine.”

Hermione was, of course, aware of this fact and her avidly studious nature had kept her well-versed in Astronomy.

“Yes, of the constellation ‘Canis Majoris’,” She responded knowledgeably. “Named by the Greeks, it means the ‘Dog Star’. The brightest star in the night sky.”

His eyes widened vaguely as he turned his face towards hers.

“Right…” He said quietly, clearly impressed.

Hermione smirked and looked over at him. She opened her mouth, fully intending to continue telling Sirius about the constellations... but something in his expression halted her before she could speak.

His eyes traveled over her face. He seemed to be taking in every detail, every freckle, as though he was seeing her for the first time. For several minutes, they remained still, faces inches apart, Hermione wrapped in Sirius’ arms, just gazing at one another.

If it was cold out, Hermione was completely oblivious to it. She was aware only of Sirius’ slow, steady breath and her heart pounding rapidly in her chest.

Sirius’ eyes came to rest on her lips. She moistened them with her tongue nervously under his gaze, detecting that she was somehow much closer to him than they had been before. Hermione began to surrender herself to the comfort and warmth of his nearness.

She closed her eyes and leaned further into his embrace… their faces drew closer… she could feel his breath on her cheek… his warm hands were now lightly touching her face, her hair… she was shivering… their foreheads touched… he ran his fingers over her mouth gently… the desire was mounting inside of her… his hand touched her cheek… her face tilted upward… he bowed his head slightly… then… absolute rapture as their lips met in a feather-light touch… his hands buried in her hair to deepen the soft kiss…

“Ahh!” Hermione yelled in fright.

An abrupt uproar in the tree above startled them and they broke apart. She jerked upwards at the same time as Sirius and their heads collided painfully.

“Bloody hell!” Cursed Sirius, clutching his head in pain. “What was that?”

Hermione looked up at the tree, also holding her throbbing head in both hands. Two large squawking birds were wrestling in the branches high above them, apparently fighting over a morsel of food that one had retrieved. One dried branch dangled precariously having been snapped in two during the tussle.

Glaring at the offending animals, she looked back at Sirius who, too, had seen the source of the commotion.

“Ruddy birds!” He growled at them, one hand still on the part of his head that had taken most of the impact.

Hermione smiled despite herself as she watched him shaking his fist furiously at the pair of oblivious birds.

“They’re bloody lucky James isn’t here,” Sirius snarled, continuing his angry tirade at the winged offenders. “He would’ve hexed them in an instant!” Sirius said indignantly.

The smile melted off of Hermione’s face instantly. James! How could she have been so thoughtless? The man she cared for so completely was at home, surely worried sick over his ailing father… and here she was, lying in the arms of his best friend… star gazing… and kissing, however brief it was!

Sirius deciphered her horrified expression accurately. For a moment, it seemed he was going to try to reason with her but he stopped short.

Running his fingers through his hair in apparent frustration, he frowned at her. “Come on. I’ll walk you back.”

Neither of them said a word the entire way back to the common room. Hermione felt nauseated with guilt and mentally exhausted, not to mention the pounding in her head from the bump now forming above her left ear. She just wanted to retreat to the solace of her bedroom where she could think.

Sirius saw her to the portrait hole, then claiming he wasn’t tired and fancied a walk, he turned, stuffed his hands into his pockets and left, never giving her a second glance.

Ten minutes later, Hermione climbed into bed. She looked out the window at the night sky and saw the lone bright star glowing far off in the distance.

And her head began to throb worse than ever.

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