the_debt_of_time

"Nineteen years ago, she was my Mia. And I gave her my word."
Harry leant forward and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. "This is so
confusing. I don't understand, we just saw Hermione go downstairs. How long has she
been gone?"
"She left tonight," Sirius said, his voice quiet as he ran the pad of his thumb around
the rim off his glass. "Remus and I walked her to the library where the Time-Turner was
waiting."
"How long has it been for her?"
"Eight years."
Harry's eyes widened. "She looks the same. Or, well, she looks the same age."
"That'll be the work of the De-Ageing Potion."
Harry bobbed his head, looking like he was trying very hard to process everything
that they were telling him now, connecting it with what Sirius had told him before about
his long-lost aunt. "She grew up with you? How have I not seen any photographs?"
"She took them all," Remus said. "And the few that she was in disappeared."
"I have them," Sirius admitted.
Remus turned to him. "You kept them?"
"They're locked away in my room. The stuff Dumbledore gave you when I went to
Azkaban? There was a box in there I kept all our pictures in. When she vanished, I hid
them all."
"The metal box you keep in your room?" Harry asked.
Sirius met Harry's gaze with a small smile. "I'll take them out and show you later.
Though, Mia will probably want to show you anyway."
There was a long moment of silence where Harry and Remus each nursed their
firewhisky, and Sirius swirled his bourbon around in the glass.
"Care to explain what happened in the hallway?" Harry demanded suddenly.
Sirius snorted. "Does it really need explaining?"
Harry glowered at him. "It really does, Sirius."
Sighing, exhausted, Sirius scrubbed his hand down his face. "I haven't seen that
woman—Mia, mind you, not Hermione, Mia—for nineteen years. Kind of got carried
away."
"So you and Hermione... were... are... what?"