The Light

Chapter 18- The Truth

Remus was the first one to react.

"No."

He said the word repeatedly, sometimes loud and convincing, other times barely much more than a whisper. It seemed he was trying to process what Sirius had just said.

Peter didn't really respond, he just stared at the floor. James forgot how to breathe.

"That can't be true."

Sirius shook his head, and got closer to Remus. They were stood directly in front of each other. "Think about it," Sirius said. He was excited, throbbing with revelation. Shaking Remus' shoulders, he continued, "She falls from the ceiling, claiming she was in a war. But- but she told me, she specifically told me, that there was no war going on! But I just thought she meant at Hogwarts! Hermione's been trying to tell us from the start!"

Remus sighed, but he made no move to push Sirius' hands off his shoulders. He seemed resigned; as if this would leave him hollow if it was indeed true.

James swallowed, and his lungs ached. He asked faintly, "Why... Why would you think that?"

"When we were in the Hospital Wing," Sirius explained. "Dumbledore was there when I woke up. They were talking and he was warning her about how dangerous time was! Why else would he warn her about time? On top of that, she's scared of the future! Hermione's-"

"If she's scared of the future, and she saw us dying, does that mean we're already dead in her time?" Peter said. His voice was precariously quiet. Sirius faltered, staring at him.

Remus' head shot up, and his eyes found Sirius' face, which looked so lost in that moment. He opened his mouth to speak, to say something, anything, but he had no words.

"We don't know what time she's from. She could be from 100 years in the future, she could be from 10. We don't know," James said. The conviction behind his words seemed to be only there to convince his friends. James wasn't even sure that he believed himself. "For all we know, our deaths could be... reasonable."

"Reasonable?" Sirius repeated.

"She knew us," Remus said, shaking his head. "Or she knows us. Hermione can't be from that far into the future if she knows us."

James sighed, taking his glasses off to massage the bridge of his nose. He didn't know what to think. Growing up around magic, you start to think that anything's possible, and then something comes along and breaches the very definition of possible and leaves you reeling with the muddled mind of rationality. He froze. How could she be from the future? How could she see their ends? The answer was hollowing. "Then we die..."

"Everyone dies, James," Sirius said and his voice bordered on the snidest tone his aristocracy had gifted him with. Serious situations, ironically enough, did not seem to bode well with him.

"You know what I mean!" James snapped.

"Okay!" Remus interrupted, not missing the frown that passed over Sirius' face. He rubbed his cheek. A ragged breath tore itself from his throat and he felt his eyes sting, so he closed them for a few seconds. He'd like to think he was collected; it was the one thing Remus tried to be above all else. If he could not control himself, he truly wondered if there was anything less human than chaos. Remus did not like feeling out of control. He loathed the feeling of helplessness; he hated being weak or dependant on someone or something. He hated the wolf and everything it stood for. All he had ever wanted was to be just Remus.

He levelled out his breathing, and when he opened his eyes, the other three were staring at him. Shaking his head, he said, "We're going to have to talk to Hermione about this. You do know that?"