the_debt_of_time

"I'm sorry, Harry," Sirius said as he realised what had happened. Mia was alive. Alive
and here in this timeline. Whatever Remus did had worked, and the book recognised it,
recognised that she was finally Mia again and back in the world where she belonged.
"Sirius?"
He looked up at his godson, hoping he did not appear as vulnerable and panicked
as he felt in that moment. "Please remember I would never do anything to hurt you or my
family."
Harry's eyes widened. "Sirius, what the hell is going on?"
Just then, there was the whooshing sound of the Floo in the other room being
activated.
"Sirius!"
The shrill, feminine scream sent a shiver down his spine. She was angry. Hermione
had been angry with him plenty of times, but that tone... Hermione had never taken that
tone with him before.
Rushing into the hallway with Harry on his heels, Sirius stopped dead at the sight
of her.
His lips parted, and his breath hitched in his chest. His gaze raked over her body,
which was so much more perfect than he remembered. Bare feet and pink painted toes,
long slender legs barely covered in a pair of green hotpants. The Quidditch jersey hung off
of her body loosely, but he could still see her curves, see how her long, soft curls flowed
over her shoulder and breasts. His hands twitched as the need to bury his fingers in those
curls became overwhelming. Her shoulder was bared, and he could see the scar—the Pack
Mark.
"Sirius," she whispered, breathing heavily.
He met her gaze, and his heart leapt.
She had amber eyes.
Firewhisky.
From behind him, Harry confusedly asked, "Hermione? How'd you—? What're you
wearing?"
She slowly stepped forward, not taking her eyes off of Sirius.
Terrified that it was not real despite all of the evidence, Sirius's voice broke as he
whispered questioningly, "Hermione?"