Intertwined I SIRIMIONE

Weight of the World

It all came to a silent pause. Hermione could only hear a ringing sound that stretched for an immeasurably long time. Her limbs were heavy with exhaust and she could barely stay conscious. The room was spinning as she blurrily assessed the situation. The excruciating pain she felt in her arm was now numb. She looked at it. As she shakily stood and finally looked into the unknown room, her blood dripped down her side and splattered onto the wooden floor.  

Hermione could barely stay standing, dizzily wobbling and straining against her better judgement; mentally yelling at herself to just close her eyes and sleep. The ringing sound didn’t seem to disappear but rather steadily grew louder in her ears. She tried to speak, but her mouth felt dry. Drier than she'd ever experienced before, and her throat desperately needed water. She couldn't see through her still-blurry vision. Maybe I have a concussion , she surmised, but couldn’t tell for certain. Between the incessant ringing, blood loss, fatigued body, and loss of vision, she just couldn’t think properly. After standing for a few moments, Hermione was then left with a question: Where was she?

Hermione blinked a couple of times, trying to clear her vision. The first thing she saw were the red curtains, red furniture, red decorations, and a fireplace. It was all a warm Gryffindor red. She mentally sighed in relief. While it was the last place she’d have guessed Dobby would transport her, she welcomed the comfort and familiarity the Gryffindor common room brought to her soul. 

However, goosebumps started to form across her exposed skin. She looked at the open window that overlooked the Black Lake and the gibbous moon that could be seen reflected on the seemingly calm water. It was enthralling, but a spine chilling thought came to her mind.

Where were her friends? Where were Harry and Ron? Why was she the only one here? It didn't make any sense, nothing did. Was she transported to the wrong location? Would Harry and Ron be waiting for her elsewhere wondering where she was?

"Harry!" Hermione yelled, but her voice came out like a hoarse whisper. "Ron!" She tried again and her voice came out a little bit stronger than it did before, but it was still weak.

Seconds passed, but no one responded to her cries. She winced at the pain as she felt like the sides of her head were being tightened together. A piercing headache had formed.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Hermione jumped at the noise. Footsteps , she noted, rushed ones . The footsteps came from the direction of the common room's entrance and the door swung open. Her heart drummed loudly in her ear. She was wandless and was severely injured. She wouldn’t stand a chance in fighting

"Can you imagine the Slytherin's faces when we plant these jinxed dungbombs in the dungeons tomorrow?" A voice animatedly asked. She noticed the similarity the voice had with Harry's. "It'll be brilliant!"

"I know," Another voice answered, agreeing with the first one. "Snivellus is going to smell more rotten than he already does!"

She froze. The second voice sounded exactly like someone she knew. A person that was cherished by many. A man that they had lost just years ago and who she knew as dead the moment she heard of his passing through the veil. Her heart skipped a beat as she remembered his smile. His eyes. The same eyes that were staring right at her. A sudden silence overcame them. No one spoke. Not a word was muttered.

Despite that, Hermione’s eyes met each and every one of them, but it stopped at a pair of grey ones. So alive. So clouded. But Hermione saw how different it was. There was a spark in his eyes, it twinkled with mischief. More than she ever saw from them the last time she saw him alive, "Sirius?" Her voice came out above whispers as her knees felt weak.

Sirius, well, a younger version of him stood agape. His eyes were wide as he ran towards her, catching her before she could hit the ground, "Hermione?" He muttered in her ear. "Why? How?"

Before Hermione could answer his questions and before she could question him, the world around her began slowly fading to black. The last thing she saw was Sirius's panicked expression and what appeared to be Harry's doppelganger, who looked like he was about to faint as well.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

Sirius P.O.V

Sirius gazed at the witch who was laying half dead on the Hospital Wing bed. He couldn't believe she was right in front of him at this point in time. He was beyond surprised when his eyes first landed on her in the common room. He thought it was a prank, a sick joke, a Boggart that escaped. However, when he felt the enormous amount of dark magic coming from her arm, he instantly knew that the being in front of him wasn't just his eyes playing tricks on him. Then immediately, rage filled him.

How dare those Death Eaters torture her with their barbaric ways? How dare they lay even a single hand on her?  

She looked battered and drained. A groundless war had affected an innocent person, who had only wanted peace and justice. She was Harry's best mate. She only wanted what was best for him.

He gritted his teeth as he noted her malnourished figure as well as the blemishes and gashes scattered all over her face. He flinched at the imagery of what she must have gone through to retain wounds like that.

Where was the Order in all of this? How could the Death Eaters have gotten to her? Was she not protected? And where was Dumbledore? Why would he let her end up in this position? She shouldn't even be injured in the first place, and especially to this extent!

A gut wrenching thought came to mind.

Was Harry still alive?

"He should be. He better be." He muttered under his breath as he shook out the thought of his Godson and focused his eyes on Hermione. The girl that deserved everything and anything that was good in this world.

Sirius felt a sense of dread, a sense of guilt. If he was still there with them, he could've done something, anything. He sighed as he gently touched her right hand, purposely avoiding her left. He didn't want to hurt her. She had already gone through enough.

She looked fragile, he thought. But he knew what laid dormant in the girl in front of him. He still remembers a lot about her, like the fiery passion she had as she'd advocate about the Elf' and their rights. The fury she had once she saw how he had treated Kreather was hilarious, but mostly, blinding. The brilliant twinkle in her eyes as she helped him escape an untimely and painful death. The kindness he saw, every single time he was with her. The Gryffindor courage she had shown when she protected Harry from a potential threat.

She reminded him of Lily.

However, he couldn’t see her the same way he saw Lily, he concluded and he didn't know why. Scratching his chin, a habit he had gained from when he had a beard, he unashamedly closed his distance to her face. She had grown, he noted. She was much older than the last time he saw her. And that was, well, to him it was 2 weeks ago. But time must've passed differently for her, them.

Time. Time itself had become such a funny concept to him. Oh, and magic, it never ceased to amaze him in times like this. It was truly mischievous.