Disclaimer: The mere fact that this was "published" on a fanfiction website should attest to it's not being mine.
Summary: A young woman is somehow sucked into the world of Harry Potter, circa 1976. She retains all her memories about the books, in vivid detail, but finds herself under the effects of a charm that prevents her from either warning anyone or changing anything. Just like an ordinary reader, she is helpless as events unfold.
As she finds herself at the heart of two wars, her endurance will be tested again and again. Can she bear it when she falls in love with a man destined to die?
I let out a very audible sigh. He was watching me intently, gauging my reaction. What did he expect? Surprise? I was getting tired of faking that.
"I guess what I'm trying to say is, you were right."
Git. Of course I was right. I knew everything, didn't I? Not that he could understand that, or that I could even say it aloud. All the same, I had to bite my lip to keep from scowling at him. The near-thirteen year gap – a space during which I had been on autopilot, going about day-to-day necessities that somehow didn't seem so necessary, waiting– had been the closest to peace I'd felt since my incarceration in a world I didn't belong in. And now that that peace was ended for good...I'd never felt so alive.
"Kara...Kara do you hear me?"
I turned to look at him. My oldest friend in this place. Who was I kidding? My oldest friend period. My life before Hogwarts didn't count anymore. His brow was furrowed. Perhaps he was trying to figure out if I was angry with him. I wasn't. How could I be? He was always there, always ready to catch me if I stumbled, figuratively or drunkenly. He was the only person who'd never left me.
Poor Remus. I hadn't been as good a friend to him.
I drew a deep breath. "Yes, Remus. I heard you. Sirius is innocent. You believe it now."
He nodded, looking relieved. "I should have believed it from the start."
I frowned at him. "I doubt he blames you."
He shook his head. "No. No, he doesn't."
I thought for a moment. There was a terribly inappropriate question I wanted to ask. One I wasn't even sure I could.
"Do you know where...?" To my genuine surprise, it took little effort. Perhaps because of his answer.
I sighed again, stood, and walked across our small living room to the balcony. We kept it open as long as the weather was tolerable. Both of us preferred the open air. Rain or shine, the double glass doors were swung wide.
I stood just halfway between the doors and the railing. I closed my eyes, inhaled the London night.
Out there, somewhere, was a man I loved more deeply than I could bear to think about. A man who was now on the run.