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He had lost count of how many times she came to him. She always came after midnight and was always in the library of Grimmauld Place.
It had started the summer before his fifth year. He found her curled up on the dusty and lumpy sofa in front of the fire, clutching a large book. Regulus was suspicious of her at first, wand drawn, especially since she had initially thought him to be his brother. Despite hesitation on both their parts, they grew closer and their relationship blossomed.
The girl spoke of events in her life that he did not understand and he was sure that she was not telling him everything. She told him that she was a Gryffindor. When he mentioned over the Christmas holiday that he had not seen her in the halls, she gave a vague answer that she was usually hidden away in the library or common room. She spun tales of his brother that he had not heard around the school before. When he raised this, she laughed it off and said of course not, he never went to the Gryffindor common room. As time went on, he began to feel something towards this strange girl. A need to protect her, a need to comfort her when she was sad.
She never told him her name.
After a long period where she had been absent from his life, he had seen her again only a few weeks before he was to return to Hogwarts for his final year. She looked different from how he remembered. Her hair longer and wilder, her hips slightly wider, the sparkle in her brown eyes dulled. She looked pale and exhausted. He had entered the library when he saw the soft glow of firelight from beneath the heavy door to see her staring into the flames. A glance at the clock told him it was 12:15. When she saw him her eyes widened with hope.
“Regulus?” she asked. “Is that you?”
“Yes, my lioness,” he replied. “It’s me.”
She ran over to him then and almost bowled him over with the impact of her body as she wrapped her slim arms around his neck, “I’m so glad to see you.”
“Me too,” he replied, pulling her closer to him, his arms around her waist. “I was worried about you.”
She pulled back, a look on her face that he was not sure he understood, “I’m a fighter, Regulus, you know that.” He did, too. Although he had not seen her in person in quite a while, he had dreamed of her on several occasions over the last year and a half. She always seemed to be fighting, or sad, or injured. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to try and banish the sight of her in a hospital bed, bandages across her small torso a year ago. He hated not being able to help her. Every time, it was like he was watching her life through a window, banging his fists against the pane and yelling at her.
He stroked a curl from her face and tucked it behind her ear. She smiled up at him at the gesture. “I was worried about you too,” she said.
The next time he saw her that summer, it was clear that she had been crying. She walked through the door of the library at 12:45 and as soon as her eyes fell on him she collapsed to the floor, sobs racking her frame. It had taken him two hours to calm her down.
“Please, Regulus,” she sobbed. “Please don’t do it. Please don’t do it.”
That stumped him. They had never discussed the fact that he wore the Dark Mark on his arm. He had taken it on his sixteenth birthday and was already regretting it. He had fallen asleep with her in his arms that night, but when he awoke she was gone. The only evidence she had been there was a note left in his pocket.
Unfortunately, I know I cannot change the things that have been, but I hope to change the things yet to come. Be safe. I love you.
The final time he saw her, he was eighteen. He had been in the service of the Dark Lord for two years, and ever since seeing Hermione’s breakdown his doubts had redoubled. He had found the book she had been reading the first time they met and began to put the pieces together.
He was pacing in front of the fireplace the night before he was planning on taking Kreacher to retrieve the locket. When she entered at 12:02, he stopped in his tracks and stared at her.
“Time capsule, huh?” he asked. She nodded. “So you’re from the future?” Another nod. “The last time we saw each other...”
“I found out how you died, yes,” there was a hitch in her voice. It was his turn to nod.
“I’m going to the cave tomorrow.” He knew she would understand what that meant. She looked at him then, tears springing to her eyes, but seemed unable to speak. Instead, she blew out a breath. She moved over to him and took his head in her hands.
“You are a hero, Regulus Black, please remember that.” Tears were streaming down her cheeks as she held his gaze. “Without you, this war cannot be won. I will never let that be forgotten.” Then she kissed him, soft and sweet and warm and salty from her tears. All too soon, it was over and she rested her forehead against his.
The next evening, as he was being dragged beneath the depths of Inferi infested waters he remembered her words.
Without you, this war cannot be won.
In his hand, he clutched a small piece of paper. It had five simple words, written in her neat script.
My name is Hermione Granger.