The Dark Side of the Moon

Chapter 11 - Falling Through Time

'What are you all doing here?' Hermione said incredulously. 'It - it's nearly 3 am!'

'We were surfing, Isabelle!' James said vibrantly. 'Like we always do at this hour.'

She crossed her arms impatiently. Everyone turned to James in puzzlement; Sirius was mouthing wordlessly at him, shaking his head.

James shrugged. 'It sounded good in my head.'

Hermione established silently that this had been the strangest day of her life; maybe not the most dangerous, the most life-altering or the most significant, but most definitely the strangest.

'Meanwhile,' Sirius maintained, 'you were having fun in the dungeons with Snape. Oh yes, Peter told us everything.' He grinned rather like a lion about to eat its newly captured prey. That is, if lions grinned at all.

Hermione nearly screamed out in frustration. She tried to catch Peter's eye but he seemed to be avoiding her. Maybe he felt ashamed of running away, or maybe he just wanted to be the praised centre of attention, the one everyone listened to.

'Ugly, rat-faced little twerp,' she muttered. He was looking down, his hands clasped together sweatily. What had the rotten slime been telling them?

'You were spying on me,' she indicted crossly.

'Nah,' James asserted with a wave of his hand. 'Just observing what you were doing.' The others grunted in agreement.

'That's what spying is!' she pointed out edgily.

'So what's the deal with you and Snivelly, eh?' Sirius said, ignoring her. 'His grease appealing, I suppose. It gives him that whole straight-out-of-the-shower look - without the whole clean aspect of it,' he added as an afterthought. 'But showers can be fun, you know, lots of nakedness. And Snape naked, well let me tell you -' as he registered the words that had just left his mouth, Sirius hunched over and pretended to vomit.

Hermione screwed her face up in disgust. She was far too tired for explanations or an argument; she had been cooped up for almost seven hours in the dungeons and wasn't in a particularly loquacious or jokey mood. She tried to ignore Remus looking at her with that x-ray vision he seemed to be able to spring up on her on random occasions- it was very unsettling.

'I'm not going to put up with this,' she said tiredly, trudging up to bed and leaving the four Marauders to say whatever on earth they felt like saying about her.

*-*-*

Hermione woke up somewhere near midday. She hardly ever slept in, she was far too fidgety and organized for that - but just like in the dungeons, her pending exhaustion had finally gotten the better of her.

It was the Quidditch final between Gryffindor and Slytherin, and James, of course, would be playing. Lily had tried to stir her earlier to come and watch training but she had merely rolled over grouchily and fallen back to sleep. She wasn't a fan of Quidditch, but she did plan to attend the game at some point, at least for a little while. It was Harry's father after all, and just thinking about how he would have died to be in her shoes at the moment sent shivers of guilt down her spine. The match, however, was conveniently being held later in the afternoon - a twilight game. This consequently gave Hermione adequate time to do - absolutely nothing. What could be more perfect?

After conning a house elf in the common room into giving her some food, Hermione began walking around the deserted common room, thinking about nothing in particular and munching nonchalantly on an apricot Danish. She didn't know where she was going, or why, but she kept walking anyway.

She finished off her nauseatingly sweet breakfast, rather regretting consuming such a meal when she strongly preferred savoury, and reached her hand into her robes for something to wipe her mouth with. Her hands fell upon her handkerchief and so she began to dab it at the corners of her mouth where the powdered sugar had embedded itself. All of a sudden, something dropped to the ground with a small clink.

Hermione looked down at the circular object that rolled along the stone floor, stopping several inches from her feet. She paused for a moment and then went gingerly to pick it up. It was Remus's ring.

Gleaming and iridescent in her hand, the blue gems stood out brighter than ever before, catching the light of the common room's fire. She squeezed it tight, and not knowing what it would accomplish, placed it for the first time on her long and slender ring finger. It fit with perfect ease. Looking around, Hermione put her handkerchief away and left the common room, smiling.

After walking absent-mindedly through the various and expansive Hogwarts corridors for what must have been a quarter of an hour, Hermione found herself somewhat astonished. She had not noticed it before, but there was a corridor aligned with an array of fascinating paintings - paintings she had never seen before in the past, or the future.

Each of them was of people going about their general, everyday business, but something was striking about them. There was a traditional group of witches in black pointed hats dancing around a cauldron, two children with lollipops talking animatedly on broomsticks and attractively armoured knights at war.

There was also a handsome collection of individual portraits surrounding her, with one that was especially intriguing. It was an elderly man in a silken maroon bed robe with the initials B.F.P sewed across the front pocket in elaborate gold lettering. His white hair was plastered neatly to his wrinkled head and he had a curled up moustache to match. In his hand he held a carefully mahogany-carved pipe, and the eerie rainbow smoke sifting out of it was the only part of the painting in motion.

Hermione moved closer to the canvas while still keeping a couple of inches distance; she didn't want to fall into some other freak time warp. The man's face was serious and unwavering - not even his eyes blinked. She stared.

'Do you know exactly who you are staring at?' a deep British accent boomed. 'Very rudely in fact.'

Hermione stumbled backwards in shock and fell down.

'Obviously you don't you stupid, stupid girl,' the man in the painting announced arrogantly, looking down at her half with repulsion, half with haughty enjoyment.

Hermione glared at him. 'Ow,' she said reproachfully, heaving herself up.

'I,' he said, sticking his chest out with a breath of proud air, 'am master of the house. That is, Billup F. Phillip.'

'What does the F stand for?' she asked.

'Never you mind!' he snapped, taking a puff of his pipe.

Hermione raised an eyebrow but didn't push the issue. 'Master of the house, eh?' she repeated dryly. 'And exactly which house would that be?'

'The house of F'thair in Buckinghamshire,' he said impatiently. 'Now tidy up your hair.'

Hermione put her hands on her hips - he was starting to irritate her now. 'You can't tell me what to do, you're just a painting,' she pointed out heatedly.

He took another puff of his pipe and blew out the smoke so that it no longer remained inside the picture, but instead drifted out and into Hermione's face. She coughed uncomfortably - it smelt of vanilla essence and teabags.

'I can tell you what to do, ungrateful child,' she heard him say as she waved the smoke away. 'I am your elder.'

'You're a piece of canvas,' she retorted. 'I'm leaving now.' She started walking away.

'You will apologize for your discourtesy,' he said loudly.

Hermione threw up a hand in dismissal without stopping.

'APOLOGIZE CHILD!' a chorus of voices coming from all the different paintings shouted in unison.

Hermione recoiled, holding her hands over her ears. They continued to yell and jeer at her, and what instantly sprung to her mind was a group of football supporters closing in on a barracker of the opposing team. She was being ordered around by paintings; what she couldn't work out was whether it was degrading, amusing or just plain absurd.

All three, she decided as she marched back to Billup. He was still smoking and she could see his smugness even behind the colourful smoke and glamour of his demeanour.

'You - I don't like you,' she said ardently, pointing at him.

'You like the one who gave you that.' He eyed her ring complacently. 'I saw you clutching it wholeheartedly as you were walking down the hall.'

Hermione felt her cheeks grow hot, both in anger and embarrassment. 'I hope you get taken down and thrown into some horrible little attic somewhere because I assure you that -'

She didn't get to finish her sentence as a hand grabbed her arm and started pulling her firmly down the hall. It was Lupin.

'Remus,' she hissed, trying to pull away. 'What are you doing?'

'I'm dragging you down a hallway, what does it look like?' he said quite unaffectedly, a determined spark in his eyes.

She tried to resist again but he was too strong for her. Remus never looked the type to be so strong; she supposed a lot of it came as a side effect from his werewolf tendencies. Even so, his build was lean without a lot of muscle, and he hardly ever played sport.

Hermione growled as the sound of hollow superior laughter echoed down the corridor after them.

'You just wait Billup!' she shouted behind her. 'I'll make a bonfire out of you one day!'

'Stop threatening the artwork,' Remus scolded, pulling her into a deserted classroom, much like she'd done to him not long ago.

Once he had the door shut, he let her go. She stepped back and looked at him dangerously.

'Now,' he said resolutely, leaning against it and crossing his arms. 'What's going on?'

'Why aren't you watching James?' Hermione questioned bracingly, ignoring him.

He shrugged. 'Quidditch isn't really my thing - he knows that. I came back early.'

She gave him a disbelieving glare and he let out a small sigh. 'Okay, I give in ...' He looked away with irritation, tongue tentatively in cheek. 'I was worried about you.'

Hermione laughed cynically and walked over to the window; the grey sky was almost spectral in its murk. 'Worried?' she repeated frigidly. 'I haven't talked to you in over a week. Why should you be worried?'

'Because I care about you, that's why.' She heard him push off the door and soon felt his presence behind her.

Hermione, although still feeling slightly tetchy, was secretly pleased to hear this. She'd been so scared that he'd started to dislike her, it was almost nauseating.

He pulled loosely at a few strands of her hair. 'And I want to know what's happening with you Isabelle 'cos I hate being stranded in the dark.'

She froze up at the unexpected contact, wanting desperately for it to continue but willing him to stop. He dropped his hand and Hermione swallowed, hoping that wasn't sweat dripping down the back of her neck. She squeezed her eyes shut, angry at herself for not being able to control her emotions.

'Nothing is happening, Remus,' she insisted, turning around suddenly. 'For God's sake, I wouldn't, couldn't and won't ever go near Snape unless I absolutely have to. So please don't, especially don't, imagine anything else.'

She shuddered again at the prospect of her and Snape. How anyone could think that she would ever do anything with him was beyond reason to vomit; it made her want to die ... or make Snape die. Either way, death was the answer.

'I'm not just talking about that,' persevered Lupin, but calmly and without blame in his voice. 'You've been acting like this for a while now; I know that there's something bothering you.' He took her now limp hands beseechingly. 'I just wish that you'd tell me, Isabelle.' Her head was hurting. 'You keep playing me around and - well, how can I trust someone if I know they're hiding something from me? And you've been hiding something - for fuck's sake - you've been hiding from me right from the start.'

She pulled away and bit her bottom lip as if the pain in it would lift the pain in her heart. Like a vicious roar of thunder inside her head, there it was: he'd said it, he didn't trust her.

And really, she hadn't given him much of a reason to: always ignoring him when he asked questions she couldn't answer, or running away when he became too intense. Yet she trusted him; she trusted him with all her heart, so didn't that automatically initiate some sort of two-way contract? She felt torn between sadness and resentment.

'If you can't trust me, then why do you care?' she demanded fiercely.

He didn't say anything, instead letting go of her hands and turning with an uneasy shift. Hermione felt a newfound confidence firing inside of her. 'I've done nothing but play you around, after all.'

She stepped towards him, not caring if he was hurting or laughing or wanting to slap her. It was about time she got a word in that wasn't dismissed or laughed at or taken the wrong way in this fucked up time. His silence was beginning to get to her.

'Hey!' she exclaimed, waving a hand in front of his face. 'You're right! I'm the one who's dragged you everywhere with me, and led you on, and hidden things from you. I'm the one who you kissed in the snow and who ran away without explanation. I'm the one who you found in the hallway four months ago and looked after and befriended and still treated you like dirt so please Remus, tell me,' her voice dropped to a raging whisper. 'Exactly why is it that you still care?'

'Because I'm in love with you!' he blurted out, turning back to her violently.

Hermione stared at him, feeling her mouth dry up. Remus too, looked bewildered at his own words.

'There's your answer, whoopdee doo. I love you and there's nothing I can do about it and it's killing me.' He threw his hands out helplessly and quietened his voice. 'Is that a good enough reason to care?'

She stood in silence for a while, trying to make her brain register his words properly; trying to believe and to know that this was all real, that this was all happening. Was it possible that Remus Lupin, who she'd known since she was twelve, was standing miserably in front of her, proclaiming his love? It couldn't be.

'I still can't tell you,' she said quietly.

Remus made a strangled sound. 'Why not?' he said shortly. 'Is it really that bad? Because I want to help you, I want to trust you but I can't! I can't do a thing unless you say something, Bel!'

Her head suddenly felt very heavy as his eyes bore into her own. 'You really want to know?' she said croakily. 'Fine, I'll tell you.'

The words poured out of her like a waterfall and once she began, it was impossible to stop.

'First of all, my name isn't Isabelle Johnston - it's Hermione Granger. I'm from the year 1998 and in my time, I fell through a painting and landed into this year. The only one who knew was Dumbledore and he told me I couldn't get back to my own time unless I found this unknown thing I was supposed to have somehow lost. So I've had to lie to absolutely everyone in order not to change the future which isn't the easiest thing in the world, let me tell you ... I've had to forget about everything I know, and not even half of what I know is good news.' She let out an irrepressible sob before continuing.

'I've had to forget that you're my teacher at school who's twenty years older than me, that Sirius fell through some anonymous veil and got himself killed, that James and Lily married and had my best friend Harry Potter then went and got themselves killed by an evil wizard - thanks to Peter betraying them. And so, you're left old and alone and almost always without a job. And I, I am stuck here trying to convince Snape not to tell the whole school all of this because the idiot has been spying on me enough to know, which is why he cornered me after Potions yesterday, which is why he tried to feed me Veritaserum and locked me in the dungeons all night, which is why I just want to go home!'

Hermione finished with a pant and tried to catch her breath. Those last lines had come out of her so fast that she hadn't yet had time to breathe. She began shivering unpleasantly, overwrought with emotion.

'So there's the truth!' she moaned, her voice cracking. 'Are you happy now?'

Remus stood stock still - his face was white. He knew she wasn't lying; there was no doubt about that. Hermione's eyes widened and she put her hand to her mouth. What had she just done?

Not waiting for his response, Hermione sprinted out of the classroom, not looking behind her once.

*-*-*

Hermione took refuge in the library as there was hardly anybody in there and she needed to be alone. Sitting behind the Z shelf, she held her knees up to her chest and wept silently into them. It had felt so good to just tell someone; she'd been yearning to for so long. And although she felt desperately relieved in one way, she felt twice as much panic in another.

Her secret, her future-altering secret was out and there was nothing she could do about it. She'd not only told Remus about herself, but she'd choked out the fates of him and all his friends too. How could she have been so stupid? What if he tried to warn them? What if he tried to change something? Hermione felt another jolt of alarm - what if he told someone about her? That would mean people would be chasing her up, asking her questions - she'd have to deny everything of course. Some people may never be born and it was all her fault, all because she'd let her guard down for a fleeting instant.

She stopped sobbing and rested her chin on her knees. Too caught up in the trouble she'd caused, she had temporarily forgotten what Remus had said to her.

He had told her that he loved her.

Hermione realized with a start that this was worse than anything else. They were from different time eras. He wasn't allowed to love her. It was absurd, it was pointless, it was impossible ...

Then why are you feeling so happy? A little voice inside her said.

She groaned and leant against the bookshelf. Shut up you, she replied to it.

Hermione, she thought furiously, what's wrong with you? You can keep composed - it was just a few words.

'Isabelle?' a voice said, interrupting her reverie. 'Are you all right?'

She looked up, startled, to see Sirius. She stood up quickly, sniffing and wiping her eyes hastily with the back of her hand.

'Oh yes,' she said, laughing, 'I'm quite fine.'

'You look like you've been crying,' he said in concern. He was holding a large book in his hands. It read: Zap: The Top 100 Things to Turn Your Enemies Into.

'I was just a little homesick,' she said unconvincingly and then to change the subject added, 'what's with the book?'

'Oh, this?' he said after a moment, looking at it and furrowing his brow. He seemed to have forgotten he'd been carrying it. 'You see, I'm studying books with Zap in the title. Bit strange but someone has to do it.' He gave a nervous laugh and put the book away. 'So, how about we get to the game, eh? It's about start.'

Hermione let him steer her away, pleased that she'd expunged the attention from herself and planning to keep it that way.

*-*-*

Hermione and Sirius made their way out to the Quidditch pitch. It was five minutes to five o'clock, when the game was scheduled to start, and the stands were bursting with excited students. The atmosphere was electric.

Hermione felt bad for not having watched a game all year, and she was actually feeling a little anticipation for this one. Sirius explained to her that he was the Quidditch commentator asked if she would like to join him up in the top box, where the best seats were. She was about to answer when she stopped, putting a hand to his shoulder and a finger to her lips.

They had been walking around the outside of the oval, away from all the mayhem, and had a direct view of beneath the stands. Underneath the Gryffindor stand stood Lily and James. James' broomstick was by his feet - he was fully geared up in his Quidditch robes, and Lily was wearing his favourite maroon windcheater which was far too big for her. They were kissing as if their life depended on it. She was leaning against a post, her arms wrapped around James's neck. Hermione's jaw dropped, and she turned to see Sirius's reaction - he was grinning madly.

'Glad they finally came to their senses,' he whispered closely to her. 'The benighted idiots.'

Hermione snorted, causing Lily and James to spring apart instantly. When they saw who it was, they both displayed different reactions. James smirked and Lily blushed, although she was smiling. There was a silence, but not for long.

'Ha!' yelled Sirius, going over and slapping them both on the back jovially. 'Congratulations to the both of you. About bloody time! Ah -' he stopped, looking at his watch. 'Gotta run.' He gave one last laugh of exuberance and hurried off to the top box.

Hermione and Lily giggled at his enthusiasm, and as soon as trumpets sounded from somewhere and an angry voice yelled out, 'Potter, get over here!'

The players had already mounted their brooms as a torrent of sound erupted from the stands.

'Oops, that's my cue!' James said in haste. He rumpled his hair and gave Lily one last kiss.

'I'll see you later,' he said with a grin.

'Good luck,' she responded, kissing him back.

He grabbed his broom and started to leave when he ran back to Hermione. 'Thanks,' he said, standing there awkwardly.

'Oh get out of here,' Hermione laughed. 'You're late!'

He nodded to her in gratitude and ran off, an extra spring in his step.

*-*-*

'And a fantastic score for Gryffindor by the lovely Kiara Randall. Keep it up, beautiful!'

Hermione could almost hear Sirius wink as his amplified voice boomed around the crowd.

She and Lily were standing amongst the Gryffindors. Lily was cheering the team on eagerly while Hermione was looking around anxiously, keeping an eye out for Remus.

'So, you and James are official now?' she said, applauding as James did a magnificent twirl in the air. He really did fly like Harry. Both made each and every move look as easy as if they were walking, it was a natural grace for the air that she'd never seen in anybody else.

'I suppose we are,' Lily trilled. 'Isn't he amazing?'

Hermione smiled, glad to see Lily so happy. She hadn't wiped the grin off her face all night. The game had been going on for two hours and it was now dark. The Quidditch pitch was being kept alight by magic.

'So ... what about you and Remus?' Lily asked.

Hermione felt a drop of rain land on her wrist and then a few more. She looked up to see the stars covered by a colossal rain cloud. 'Oh,' she said looking down and putting on a false smile. 'I don't think there's a real chance in that.'

'And Slytherin score. Not very fairly I might add - considering they trapped our keeper! The evil little -' Sirius said an array of very friendly words then added, 'Gryffindor on 20 points, Slytherin 50.'

Hermione looked up to see the Gryffindor keeper shaking his fists at two snickering Slytherins. The nearby students were yelling in protest.

'That's a real shame then,' commented Lily, looking at Hermione with intent.

'Where is Remus, anyway?' Hermione asked, not bothering to sound casual.

'I was going to ask you,' Lily said, looking back out to the field. 'No one's seen him since lunch.'

Hermione stirred uneasily but didn't say anything.

'Look, Isabelle,' Lily said seriously, her eyes still on the game. 'I just want to tell you that - well, make sure you don't hold off doing something that might make you happy because of a few little glitches or complications. It's not worth missing out on something that could be so wonderful. Life's too short, you know.'

The drops of rain turned into a violent pour, soaking the crowd in instants. A fork of lightning flashed violently across the sky. It made it very hard for the players, who were struggling to stay on their broomsticks.

Hermione thought carefully about what Lily had said. She had quite clearly implied that she and Remus should get together but what nobody could understand except Hermione was that she couldn't be with him. She'd told herself this countless times, although she was confused as to why it wasn't sinking in yet. It was just wrong, simple as that. And three little words couldn't possibly change that.

But then she remembered how her heart had skipped a beat when he had said those words. She remembered how wonderful it had felt when he had kissed her in the snow. She remembered all the times they had laughed together, cried together, argued together, smiled together; all the moments they'd locked eyes and a buzz of electricity had seemed to flow between them.

And then as if a choir of churchgoers had sung out Hallelujah, she suddenly knew something. It was as transparently clear to her as it would have been if a flock of bluebirds had held up a sign saying it in big, fancy letters. And it happened in the same moment that James made a spectacular dive for the Snitch; the crowd had gone almost silent holding their breath.

She loved him too.

A mixture of hisses and cheers exploded throughout the ground: the ecstatic applause of the Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws winning easily over the Slytherins angry jeers. James had caught it.

'And with a brilliant catch of the Snitch by James Potter, Gryffindor win the House Cup!' Sirius' voice shouted over the crowd, causing everyone to hold their ears.

Lily was jumping up and down and screaming, as were the surrounding students, but Hermione stood completely still and repeated in her mind what she thought she had just thought.

She loved him too.

And she not only loved him, she was in love with him. She was in love with Remus Lupin. But she had to make sure.

'I love Remus Lupin,' she said aloud, almost smiling.

'What?' Lily shouted over the noise.

There it was; it was set it stone. And it didn't feel wrong or absurd, it felt right. It felt more right than anything else had this year; she had to let him know.

About to go and find him, Hermione stopped. What if, after hearing her explode at him with the truth, he didn't want to see her? Maybe it was too much for him. He might be mad.

She punched herself in the head. No, I will not back out of this one. I'm going to find him.

Pushing through the crowd, Hermione started to run. She knew exactly where Remus would be.

She became blind to the celebrations and the happiness of the rest of the school as she ran away from the pitch and through the grounds.

The rain was whipping her hard in the face and she could barely see, but she didn't care, this was her life right here and now. This was all that mattered and she had forgotten any sense or logic that might have been present if she hadn't been so determined. Just like when the words had gushed out of her and she'd told Remus everything, now that she'd started running she couldn't slow down.

She flew through the trees, her socks drenched from the slush and water that her feet were splashing through. The cheers were getting more and more distant. She vaguely felt herself start to cry but couldn't be sure as she was so wet already. She came out of the trees into the familiar clearing by the cold banks of the lake.

Remus was standing there, looking out at the water, just as she'd known he would be. She stopped at a distance and just looked at him for a moment. This was it.

As if sensing her presence, Remus turned around. His face was grim but as kind and giving as she remembered it from the first time she'd met him, both in the past and present. Now all she could see was him, and the rest of the world was a blur.

She ran a hand through her hair and walked gradually towards him, watching the rain dripping off his face, hair and clothes.

'Remus I'm so sorry,' she gulped. 'I didn't mean to blurt the truth out like that. I just couldn't help it and everything has been going wrong and I know you must hate me now but I -'

He looked straight into her eyes and she felt her heart beating so wildly and her skin tingling so fiercely that she almost didn't feel real.

Enough beating around the bush, she thought severely.

'I love you,' she said finally. 'I'm in love with you.'

He didn't say anything.

'And I know you might not think I'm serious because, well, you don't trust me, but I am. I've been in love with you since the first time I met you this year, I just didn't know it until now so please try and forgive me because I really -'

'Ssh,' he whispered gently, putting a finger to her lips. 'It's okay.'

Stroking her cheek with a trembling finger, Remus very slowly brought his lips to her own quivering ones.

Her whole being erupted into a rocket of frantic emotion - it was like nothing she'd ever experienced before. The whole world went completely silent.

She closed her eyes and leaned into his kiss. She couldn't see or hear or smell. All she could do was feel, feel his body pressed desperately against hers and taste a mixture of tears, rainwater and the moment that she was utterly captured in. She blindly felt his hands cradling her head, running over every inch of it as if to make sure she was real. Her arms were wrapped tight around him, her fingernails gripping the back of his neck as their kiss became as deep and as vital as the ocean of their fierce need of one another. Every touch of his lips sent bolts of electrocuting bliss zapping through her nerve endings.

'I love you too Hermione Granger,' he said, breathing into her skin. 'I'm never going to stop.'

Hermione felt beyond happiness, hearing him say her real name. She looked into his eyes once more, this time feeling completely lost in them. He started to kiss her again; not as fast or as desperately, but more lingeringly and tender. As she began responding, she gasped and pulled away slightly, suddenly feeling as if someone had hooked something heavy into her back.

'What's wrong?' he asked, his eyes anxious.

'I - don't know,' Hermione spluttered.

She felt a pulling sensation, almost like a Portkey but far more intense. A bright light erupted around her and as she felt herself being slowly dragged backwards. She saw Remus's eyes widen with horror and realization, and she knew what was happening. She was returning, returning to the present.

'No Hermione, don't leave me now,' he said desperately, clinging to her as her hands started slipping out of his.

The light brightened and she felt his hands leave her own. The last thing she saw was his face, with his shaking lips that were being touched by deserted tears and the eyes that had taken her captive from the moment she'd met him.

No, she thought frantically, I can't go back now. She tried to make a dive for him but yelped in pain as the invisible hook dug deeper into her, threatening to tear her apart. There was nothing she could do as the light fully engulfed her.

And she was falling again.

There were no more colours but in their place, blackness; a blackness that was darker than Hermione had ever known to exist. Her rain-drenched body was now lifeless and it seemed as if she had no feeling left in this place. However, soon the bright light caught her once again and she was thrown into reality in the same moment that she had a flashback of everything that had happened to her in 1978.