Present Perfect
Just A Penniless Writer
Standard Disclaimer Applies
Author's Note: This was originally written for Shiv5468 for the hpsmutfree com livejournal. I didn't like it when I originally posted it (something that should have stopped me from posting to begin with), and it's taken til now to finally feel as if I can own up to it. I'm still not sure whether I actively like it, but at least I don't dislike it anymore.
Ah well. Enjoy if you can.
The first time she spots him during her travels is on her third trip.
He is underneath a voluminous cloak, sipping a glass of water, and she never would have noticed him if he hadn't managed to catch her eye. It is a surprising feat, not only because the hood on his cloak mostly prevents him from making eye contact with anyone, not only because Hermione is under a top notch disillusionment charm, but also because he is not supposed to be there in the first place.
Still, he –if it is he— isn't the type to stare so unnervingly at a wall, so she smiles tentatively as a test. His smirk can only be a response and sure proof that her charm is not as impenetrable as she has been assured. It is enough that she promptly returns back to her time to discuss the issue with her supervisors.
The second time she spots him is during her fourteenth trip. Though it has only been two months in her time, two years have passed chronologically.
This trip, although she is under more disillusionment charms and invisibility potions than ever before, his cold eyes seem to find her the minute she enters the establishment. She tries to dismiss the idea because logically there is simply no way for him to notice her. Logically, there is simply no way for him to even exist such as it is.
She puts her full faith in this logic, even approaches him with cautious certainty to prove that it is not truly him that is there, and if it is, it is not truly her he is seeing but the wall that is indeed his target of view.
"You have not aged a bit."
The voice, smooth and strong, surprises her more than she cares to admit.
"What is your secret?"
He obviously sees or otherwise senses her tenseness as he laughs slightly, a loose laugh that would sound much better if there wasn't a tinge of falsity to the tone, if she wasn't able to detect a harshness hiding beneath the layers of faked good humour.
"Do not worry yourself. No one else can see you."
His words do little to set her at ease considering his tone is near impossible to interpret. Still there is a mystery here that itches at her senses until she takes the proffered seat at his table and stares at him with hard curiosity.
"How are you here and how can you see me?" she asks bluntly.
"My dear girl, did you truly believe you were the only person capable of such travel?"
"But this has only been perfected in the last year! You couldn't have…"
"Ah. I believe I understand. Tell me, when does the Ministry raid my home? When do they discover the room beneath the rear stairs?"
"You know I cannot tell you that."
"But you do understand that the paradox of time means nothing you do here will change the future."
"The future or the past? Well, yes, but it is better to be safe. Especially around one such as yourself."
"You do know me then. Interesting. Friend or foe?"
"What do you think?" she snaps.
"Though your attitude suggests foe, you willingly approached and accepted this conversation, suggesting perhaps we are friendlier than you would like."
Any response she wishes to make is interrupted by the chimes of the Device. The last he sees of her on this specific trip is a furious frown.
The third time she spots him is during her twenty-third trip. She has taken to going farther back, for research purposes and not because she wishes to avoid him, so that it is ten years before she first spotted him that she sees him again.
"I was beginning to wonder when I would find you."
"Impossible."
"Not so. Considering what you must know of time travel, is it any wonder that two people using the same Device continuously meet in the same times?"
"Improbable."
"Must you be so bothersome? Can you not simply enjoy that you have someone to share this experience with?"
"I would prefer it not to be you."
"As would I. However, at least you have the benefit of not being accompanied by a stranger."
"Hmph. You would prefer the thought of a stranger to my true identity."
"Possibly. However, as you are currently the only company I have at my disposal, I will gladly overlook any possible stains on your character."
"You always were a terrible man."
"I do wonder exactly how well you know me."
"And I will never tell."
"Do you really suppose I would still be here, with you, if I could change anything? Do believe me when I say I have tried. Take this scene if you will."
"You've been here before?"
"Many times. That man is my father, as you may have guessed, and he is about to do something that will forever effect my life."
She watches carefully, expecting to see something tragic, something large scale. Instead she sees the pathetic prank of a spiteful man.
"You watched your father trip a woman with his cane?"
"I watched my father trip a Mudblood with his cane, yes. And I watched as his face lit up with absolute glee. He seemed so happy."
"How traumatic."
"The lengths to which we go to please... traumatic indeed. I have tried seventeen times to change this scene, and yet it always occurs. The woman changes, the way she trips changes, but she always falls and he always laughs."
"Do not try to tell me you have a conscience."
"Foolishness. No, I simply wanted to see if perhaps this small change could alter the presently uncomfortable circumstances of my life."
"Ha! Now I know when you are!"
"Must you be so inane? Yet another mark against you. Soon you will be informing me of your Muggle heritage."
She fumes. The smirk that forms on his face is almost sad.
"Ah. Now I know what you are."
They watch the scene pass in silence until the Device chimes in duplicate and both vanish with a mere whisper.
The fourth time she spots him is during her forty-fourth trip. Though still careful, the continued experience of being almost less than a ghost has given her the confidence to take more risks. Such is it that she stands in the gritty field surrounded by those who would kill her if they knew she was there.
"I expected you some time ago."
The voice surprises her, though she knows she should be all but familiar with it by now.
"The topic of my research is not set to your whim."
"I do wonder what exactly the topic of your research is."
"It is not for you to know."
"I could almost assume you were studying me. That does seem to be the only constant in the times I find you. A noble study indeed."
"You think too highly of yourself."
"As do you."
The variable voice of the creature at the front rises in a crescendo. The power from such a voice is almost palpable and she feels now how someone weaker could be pulled in by this madman.
"Hypnotism... Almost like Imperio..." she mutters.
"Yes, it is," he comments in return, surprisingly chipper considering their surroundings. It is not until the chimes are but memories to her ears that she realizes exactly what she has done.
The fifth time she spots him is during her sixty-second trip. The strain of the continued plane jumping is wearing on her as the Time Turner never did. She is tired and has recently overheard her supervisors suggest removing her from the project early. Such an action will not be stood for. There is still much to learn from the Device and much she can accomplish with this success.
It is with determination that she actively seeks him out.
"You cheat!"
"Elaboration would be much appreciated."
"You used my idea to get away with being a Death Eater!"
"A comparison is not an idea. I simply expanded upon the connection you made."
"And used it to get away with murder!"
"Have you ever witnessed me in such an act? I can swear now, without hesitation, that up to this point in my life I have done no such thing. My actions afterward are hardly at issue."
"Certainly they are! Who you are now made who you are then!"
"Is that logic not backwards?"
"Make sense, would you!"
"I admit freely that who I was shaped who I am now, and I also admit freely that who I am when you first become acquainted with me, whenever that may be, is shaped by my experiences here, with the Device. What more do you want?"
She is confused, and it takes her a moment to remember her original argument.
"You cheat! You are so many times worse than your son!"
"I must say, it is quite a welcoming thought that the child will have something of myself…"
"You terrible man!"
"Are you quite through with your pithy phrases? Troublesome witch, if you cannot insult a much maligned character such as myself, what hope have you in the Ministry?"
She fumes before stalking away into the town. A quick look around confirms that the subject of her study is a scant few meters away. Intuition and practice suggests she follow him; his other self suggests otherwise.
"I am terrible, am I? Perhaps you had best look to yourself, Mudblood."
If he wishes to have the last word, she simply will not let him.
"For all that you are, I have never once heard you call me that word. Obviously you learn to watch your tongue as you age. Or, perhaps, become even more of a coward."
He makes to counter-attack her last words but does not manage before she is whisked away by chimes, a smirk at her lips.
The sixth time she spots him, her travelling days are over. While she had known all along she would be re-located to a different department upon completion of her research, it still smarts that she did not go beyond the limitations inherent in the Device. Failure, particularly failure of this magnitude, will not be borne.
She is attempting, however unsuccessfully, to bring down the purchase price of an object that bears remarkable similarity to the Device when a familiar step is heard approaching, a familiar hand is laid on the counter.
"If you charge more than twenty galleons for that item, I will be very... disappointed."
"Mr. Malfoy! Of course, of course, nineteen galleons it is."
She gapes, a terribly ignoble expression that she is well aware of. However, she is so put out by his mere presence, let alone his gall in purchasing what she was rightfully bargaining for, that she can barely pull her jaw shut and demand explanation.
The sudden dawning in his eyes is quickly blanked but not before she can grasp its implications. She sees now that their shared past, so recent to her, has never been so obvious to him.
"Miss… Granger, was it?"
"Mr. Malfoy, I was not expecting you to be released so quickly. However, I suppose they do make allowances for cowards and fools."
"Tell me, girl, was it the Device that stopped your… visits or was it your incompetence?'
She bristles at the insinuation before letting it go. After all, she knows him much better than he knows her.
"You are out of Azkaban on my mercy, Mr. Malfoy. Were I truly a lesser person, such as yourself, I would have ignored your historical cowardice. The mere insinuation of a death at your hands would have been enough." She pauses in order to be as dramatic as possible. "I suggest you be more appreciative."
She turns on her heel and strides out of the shop with more pompous pride than she dares admit. That she forgets the object that could be the Device means nothing. It arrives at her window by owl two days later regardless.
The seventh time she spots him, the words they share are sharp and intentionally cutting. However, neither is particularly offended and they part almost amicably. She smiles and thinks that the next time she spots him, she just might invite him for tea.