It all started because Ronald Weasley was a bloody wanker. Don't get her wrong, he was one of her best friends and she loved him, but the fact remained: he was a bloody wanker. The boys were over for their monthly dinner, something they started after the war.

That particular day she was running late, causing her to bring home her work. As an Unspeakable, she had a lot of work. The old, scarred coffee table was littered with research books, not exactly something that was uncommon in her flat, but she usually picked up a bit before Harry and Ron came over. Ron, being bored and hungry (a lethal combination for him), started to flip through one of the books. He read one of the passages out loud as he absent-mindedly twirled his wand in his hand.

Her life changed when she walked into the living room to inform them that dinner was ready.

"Revelare anima mea."

They all looked on in horror as a stream of royal purple light shot out of his wand and hit her square in the chest.


"I'm so sorry! Are you okay? Do we need to take you to Saint Mungo's?"

"I… no; I think I'm –" was all she managed to say before she blacked out.

She watched helplessly as the sword fell upon his neck, separating his head from his body, his now unseeing grey eyes wide open. His only crime was loving her, the Pharaoh's daughter. Struggling against the guards forcing her to watch, she finally broke free. She ran to their secret spot, knowing it was the only place she could mourn him properly. Sobs racked her body, and she knew she would never love another.

That was the first time their souls had met.

It was chaos. Ash covered the sky, shrouding the town in darkness. People were gathering up what belongings they could carry. Others were taking their time as if they thought the worst was over.

How wrong they were.

She was gathering as much food as she could, figuring it would be scarce in the time to come. It was when she was on her way out that she saw him. His grey eyes pierced into her soul, and she found herself begging him to come with her. He said he couldn't and promised he would meet up with her later.

He never did.

When she went back to Pompeii after things calmed down, there was nothing – and no one – left.

That was the second time.

She shuddered violently as she drew the blankets closer around her. It mattered not that it was warm in the room, nothing could keep her warm enough. Suddenly, she was unable to catch her breath as she coughed and coughed. One of the harried doctors rushed over to her, bringing a cup of water to her lips. His grey eyes met hers and when she saw the spark of recognition in his, she knew.

It was too bad she was dying.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. He said nothing and sat at her bedside, grasping her hand in his, and stayed with her until she departed that plane. He would follow her in death weeks later from the same plague that had killed so many.

That was the third time their souls met.

The fourth time, their souls passed by each other, never meeting. Moving restlessly through their lives, they never found love with another.

They never would.

This time was different. As she grew up, she realized that the many dreams she experienced were real. The dreams were of her past lives.

Of her soulmate.

She despaired that the three times they had met before all ended in tragedy and that one time they never even got a chance to meet at all. Would they ever get it right?

She had her answer years later when she was working as a nurse on the sidelines of war. His fellow Union soldiers carried him in, bleeding profusely from a gunshot wound. As she looked into his pain-filled grey eyes, she knew she had her answer. They wouldn't get it right this time either.

And that was the fifth time.

He was the one who remembered this time. She had Polio, and he was a doctor at the hospital. It was the worst outbreak in their country's history, and she knew she was going to die. He would come and visit her when his shifts were over, often looking at her with sadness in his grey eyes.

"I feel so lost," he told her. "Our souls just keep wandering, never meeting for long. What's the point of all this suffering?"

"Not all those who wander are lost. Maybe we have a greater purpose to fulfil."

She died weeks later, him following right after by his own hand, and thus ended their sixth time.

The dream shifted again, and it was then she realized it was not showing the past. Scenes from her current life flashed quickly before her. A big black dog. Flying on Buckbeak's back. Christmas at Grimmauld Place. Those grey eyes.

Him falling through the veil.

With a gasp, her eyes flew open and she realized she was living the seventh life. Knowing she was left alone once more, she broke down, her body racked with sobs. Sirius was her soulmate, but why didn't she recognize him? Why was this time different?

Her last thought before Harry and Ron burst into her hospital room was that she needed to research.

Weeks went by and she was no closer to an answer. She was frazzled, using all her spare time on research. Even her co-workers, well known for caring about nothing but their own work, were starting to give her odd looks.

It was months later before she found a book on soulmates and past lives deep in the Ministry library. She learned that this time had been different because it was supposed to be different. So why wasn't it?

It was her research into the Veil that revealed the answer. The book was long thought to be lost, so no one in current memory knew what the Veil did. The most important thing she learned was that Sirius wasn't dead, and she could pull him back.

She prepared for weeks, not telling anyone what she was doing. When she was ready, she made her way to the Veil. Kneeling in front of it, she recited the spell, cut her hand, and smeared her blood on the arch. Nothing happened, and her heart sank into her stomach. She was so sure that it would–

A loud bang sounded throughout the room and the floors rumbled, knocking her over. She hit her head hard on the floor and blacked out.

When she awoke, she could see nothing but a blindingly bright light. She blinked her eyes a few times quickly, trying to get them adjusted to the brightness. Still, she saw nothing but a never-ending whiteness. Before she could begin to despair, however, she heard his voice right behind her.

"Hello, Hermione. I've been waiting for you."

Sirius, she thought, as she turned to fling herself at him.


Written for The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition
Prompt: Use your team name as your prompt. Wanderers.
Word count bracket: 950-1,200. Word count is exactly 1,200.

Go Wanderers!

Written for Hogwarts – History of Magic: Thematic task: Write a story about history repeating itself.

Thanks to Raybe and Jordi for the beta duties.

*Revelare anima mea: Reveal my soul