Hi everyone, this is my first Harry Potter fic (not including the story I wrote at the age of seven in which I went to Hogwarts :P) although I've been a fan of the series since forever and absolutely adore the characters. This came from a strange little idea I had, exploring the possibility of something betwene Hermione and James - strange, I know, but give it a try. Anyway, I shouldn't give too much away, but give it a read and I really hope you enjoy - feedback would be so so much appreciated to let me know whether or not to carry on. I hope to update soon, but in the meantime enjoy the first part and let me know what you thought :) Thanks! Donna xx
Chapter One – Firmly Present
"Oh, for goodness' sake!"
Hermione's whisper rang through the dormitory, her voice fierce as she threw her blanket aside for what felt like the hundredth time. Toss and turn as she might, sleep just wasn't happening for her that night, and she didn't understand it - She had been positively exhausted when she'd come upstairs, and that was hours and hours ago now. But still, she lay awake.
Sighing, Hermione turned to lie on her left side so she could look at Ginny, sleeping soundly in the bed next to her. It was still strange, being in the same dorm as her and not the likes of Parvati and Lavender, but they of course had graduated in the July of the previous year. Hermione was glad that they had been given the option to return after the battle to complete their final year (and yes it was they - despite Harry and Ron's months of protesting, she had dragged them back, insistent on the importance of finishing their education), but it did mean they'd had to join the year below, and it all just felt a little too off kilter.
She sighed as she looked at Ginny, her eyes wandering to the picture of Harry on the bedside table that Ginny, given her sideways position, had evidently fallen asleep looking at. Hermione didn't think she had ever been as besotted with anyone in her life as Ginny was with Harry - Not Viktor, and certainly not Ron. Oh, god.
Ron. She turned away from Ginny and lay back so she was staring at the ceiling, her mind refusing to shut down. All that time, she'd been so sure that a relationship with Ron was what she wanted; it was supposed to make her the happiest girl in the world. So why on earth didn't it? Of course she loved him, of course he meant a lot to her, but... Was it really in that way? Could they ever work, really?
Hermione sighed once again, throwing back her covers and getting out of bed - it was useless trying to attempt sleep any more, her brain was too full of thoughts, all trying to make themselves heard at once. Pulling on a cardigan, she glanced back at Ginny and the picture of Harry one last time to ensure she was asleep, before tiptoeing down to the common room, silently lighting a few candles, delicately stepping toward the fireplace... And crashing noisily into a side table, sending herself and the table flying to the ground.
So much for silence. Hermione hadn't even had time to get to her feet before she heard footsteps descending from behind the door that led to the boys' dormitories, and she groaned - the last thing she felt like doing was explaining herself. But it seemed for the first time that night, luck was on her side, and when the door opened it was only a groggy Harry who entered.
"Hey," He said a little confusedly, his voice husky from sleepiness, "What happened?"
"Oh, just my clumsiness. Subtlety was never my strong point. Thanks." She added as he reached out a hand to pull her to her feet, and righted the table with a flick of his wand. She sighed, finally flopping down into onto the sofa in front of the fire, and turned to look at him. "I couldn't sleep."
"Oh?" Harry looked sympathetic as he sat down beside her, "Why not?"
"I don't know, really, I... Oh Harry, it doesn't matter. I shouldn't be keeping you up - go back to bed."
"No, no, I'm awake now." He smiled, and she returned it.
"Ok. Well, I suppose it's just... All the little things seem to be getting to me. Things that don't even matter."
"I know the feeling." The best part was, Hermione knew he genuinely did. "Sometimes you can't even put your finger on what's wrong, something just... Is."
"Exactly." She said, before a small smile crept onto her face," Hey, you know who isn't having trouble sleeping is Ginny. Snores like anything! Plus, and this is cute, she falls asleep looking at your picture."
"She does?" Harry looked a little alarmed, pulling a face, "Whoah. She's certainly - what shall I say - full on."
Hermione smiled, "Oh, but you love it." She laughed, and thankfully so did he, before leaping to his feet.
"Come on!" He said brightly, catching her by surprise as he grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet, "Let's go for a walk."
"At three in the morning?"
"Yeah! Neither of us are sleeping, right? Come on, we haven't had a good explore in ages."
"Well... Alright then."
But Hermione still wasn't too sure, as she yawned widely while waiting for Harry to return with the invisibility cloak - No, she wasn't asleep, but she was still sure as hell exhausted.
"I feel like we should be creeping to the restricted section of the library to look for clues about Nicolas Flamel." He whispered as they made their way silently down a corridor leading away from the common room, and Hermione laughed.
"Yes, this does all feel rather first-year-ish." She agreed, slipping her arm through his, "Only seven years ago, Harry, it was a lot easier for us to fit under this blooming cloak."
He laughed, and they continued to wander down various corridors at random, laughing and chatting and marveling at how, even after living in the castle for so long, it was still impossible to know every single bit of it. They didn't keep track of where they were going at all, and as they went on they thought less and less about keeping quiet, their conversation rising in volume and their giggles ringing clearly down the stone hallways.
It wasn't until they eventually came very close to an encounter with an irate and tartan-pyjama-clad Professor McGonagall, only managing to silence themselves and whip behind a tapestry in the nick of time, that the two of them decided they had better start to make their way back to Gryffindor tower.
And they fully intended to do so, until they came across an opportunity that they simply couldn't not take: An unrecognizable, very large, and, most importantly, locked door.
"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Harry whispered, turning to Hermione with the mischievous glint in his eye that he would surely never grow out of, and she bit her lip.
"We shouldn't."
"I know."
There was maybe two seconds pause, while the two of them simply looked at each other, before their faces split into matching grins and, simultaneously, their wands were out. "Alohomora."
She had half expected the charm not to work, but nonetheless the door clicked open, and Hermione was bitterly reminded that the enchantments they were now used to working with were far darker and more complex than that in a school - so much had happened that now, they simply expected complications even when there were none.
Pushing this aside, she raised her wand cautiously as she and Harry crept around the open door and into the room, to see a sight she hadn't expected - what seemed to be a large, round, ornate bowl, filed with a mystical smoke-like substance and sitting serenely on a small table in the middle of the room.
"Is that a...?" She breathed, stepping towards it, and Harry did the same, nodding.
"Yeah. Dumbledore's pensieve."
"But... What's it doing here?"
"Dunno." He shrugged, looking genuinely puzzled, "I guess after it all ended, after he died, they wanted to put it somewhere out of the way."
"But, wh-? Oh!" Hermione exclaimed as she caught sight of the room's only other contents: A large, glass cabinet, standing in the corner and absolutely full to the brim with corked flasks of the same silvery substance within the pensieve.
Harry made his way over, opening the door carefully, "D'you reckon these are all Dumbledore's?"
"I don't know, I suppose so. Will they still work, even after he's dead?"
"Yeah." Harry replied, taking one of the bottles carefully and studying it, "Yeah, they will. I only saw all of Snape's after he was already dead." Noting the grim expression on his face and slightly sad tone of voice, Hermione placed a hand on his arm - she had heard every last detail of the contents of Snape's memories.
"Hey." She said quietly, "Don't be like that. You were never to know what went on in Snape's life, and even if you did-"
"Forget it, Hermione." He cut her off, but she knew it was simply painful rather than out of rudeness. He planted a smile on his face, breathing a little heavier, "So what say we take a trip down someone else's memory lane? You've never done this before, it's about time."
"Okay." She said eagerly, although there was still a note of caution in her voice as they stepped towards the pensieve, "Does it... Will I...?"
"It's fine." He assured her, "It's a weird sensation, but it doesn't hurt." Harry took her hand, "Ready?"
She nodded firmly, and with a flash of the cheeky smile she knew so well, he poured the contents of the bottle into the large basin. The silvery substance within seemed to thicken, fragments of images appearing and disappearing so fast she could barely make them out. And then, before she knew what was happening, Harry had yanked her down along with him, and the dark room around her seemed to dissolve. He had been right, it was a strange sensation, her head was swimming, unable to focus, the world around her spinning, a whooshing sound filling her ears...
And then suddenly, Hermione found herself standing in the middle of the fifth floor corridor, with sunlight streaming through the windows and students noisily bustling past her, going about their business. She blinked, gaping at Harry, who stood beside her with an amused look on his face.
"So this is...?"
"Yeah."
"And... They can't...?"
"Nope. They can't see us, or hear us." He gestured at the students around them, "It's weird the first time, I know. Wonder what the date is? That's always the trouble when you don't know when you're headed to... Can you see anyone we know?" He glanced at the spot where Hermione had stood, blinking as he registered her absence. But thankfully, she was just a few feet away, peering over the shoulder of a girl who was sitting on a window ledge and writing in her diary.
"It's October 25th, 1978." She marveled, her eyes shining, "Harry, this is so exciting! Of all the things we've done, time travel... My goodness."
"Yeah, 'cause you didn't spend a whole year time-travelling between lessons or anything."
"Oh, shut up, Potter." She smirked, "So, whose memory is this? Dumbledore's not here, so it can't be-"
"I said bugger off, Potter!" Came a loud, brisk voice, and Hermione was silenced, she and Harry both whipping around at the sound of his name to see a tall girl of about seventeen stalk past them, swishing her long red hair with a smirk on her face as she glanced over her shoulder.
"And I heard you the first time. But I'm wearing you down, Evans, I know it!" Came the cheeky reply from a boy following her, and Hermione was absolutely astounded by his resemblance to the young man beside her, standing in his pyjamas and gaping at the pair. Unruly black hair, wire-rimmed glasses, the lot... It was remarkable.
"You've been at it for six bloody years, James, I hardly expect..." The girl's voice faded as she and the boy walked further along the corridor, enveloped by the crowd so that Harry and Hermione lost sight of them.
Harry's eyes were wide as he looked at her, his voice full of disbelief, "My Mum and Dad." He practically whispered.
"Now that I wasn't expecting." Hermione agreed, "I know you've heard this countless times, Harry, but the resemblance is remarkable!" A small smile made its way onto her face, and she nudged him, "And you've got to admit, there are certain other noticeable parallels… Chasing after the redhead, and all…"
Harry smiled, and opened his mouth as if to speak, but never got his chance. The world around them seemed to grow slightly out of focus, and Hermione knew that he must be experiencing the same tugging sensation that she was. But... She wasn't ready to go yet. This was all so new, so exciting, such a contrast to the dull lives they had led since the war finished...
"No!" She exclaimed, "No, I don't want to go back!"
"We haven't got a choice, Hermione, that's how long the memory is, we have to-"
"No we don't. I may not have done this before but I've read about memories, there are ways to prolong-"
"It's not going to happen!" Harry insisted, looking a little panicked, "Believe me, Dumbledore warned me so many times how fragile these things are, how dangerous it could be to-"
"I don't care." Hermione told him firmly. She didn't know what had come over her, why she was defying him like this - if either of them were to express a desire to know more, surely it should be him - but she felt, somewhere deep inside her, that it was vitally important she didn't leave yet. Which was why, despite Harry's pleading and the growing fuzziness of the world around her, she pointed her wand furiously at the floor.
"Collerachio!" She yelled, defiantly aiming the sticking charm right at her own feet, and sure enough, they became immovable. Why on earth she had done that, she wasn't sure, why in the world she was so sure that she needed to stay here... And evidently, Harry echoed her sentiments.
"What the hell have you done?" He yelled, his face displaying utter panic as he continued to fade, while Hermione stayed firmly in place, "You don't..."
But that was all she heard of him. Because, with a huge whooshing sound similar to before, the image of Harry was suddenly gone, leaving Hermione still firmly present and standing in the middle of the corridor. Alone.
Well, it seemed, not quite. For although the situation seemed exactly as before, one key detail was different.
"OW!" Cursed a disgruntled-looking third year as she walked into her, "Great place to stop, that!"
Hermione couldn't manage a reply, so startled was she that the other students could now see and hear her... Harry had been right. What the hell had she done? She didn't want to be stuck here by herself! Oh, she was such an idiot. Thinking quickly, she pointed her wand at her feet and muttered the counter charm, hoping that perhaps by unsticking her feet she would instantly be taken home. No such luck.
For although she could now move her feet, nothing else changed. Nothing could alter the fact that she was standing alone, in her nightclothes, in the middle of the fifth floor corridor, with students passing by all shooting her very strange glances. Oh, and of course, the fact that it was 1978, and she had absolutely no idea how to get home.