A/N. This story was written for the Off the Beaten Path Crossover Fic Exchange Challenge in response to a prompt by Squarepeg72.
Many thanks to my amazingly wonderful alpha and beta readers: Kneazle and Insanity-Red. This story wouldn't be what it is without them.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all its characters belong to J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., Bloomsbury, and Scholastic respectively. Star Trek is owned by Gene Roddenberry, CBS, and Paramount Pictures. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me, and I make no profit from this story.
Your time or mine?
Hermione was in the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, exploring an unusual formation of stalactites and stalagmites in one of the caves, when she was interrupted by a strange noise.
A bat? she thought, turning in the direction of the disturbance and carefully listening to determine its source.
A few moments later, she heard it more clearly—a muffled groan of pain, followed by the sound of someone cursing.
Definitely not a bat.
"Who's there?" she asked clearly.
Her firm voice echoed off the walls of the cave, and she extended her wand in a defensive position as she waited for a response.
There was a muffled 'Thank God!', then shuffling, followed by another quiet moan of pain, more cursing—and then: 'Please, help me!'
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "On my way!"
For a split second, she questioned the wisdom of her decision, as well as her earlier one to ditch Andrei—the man Charlie Weasley had assigned as her escort—but her curiosity got the better of her. Besides, whoever it was in the cave with her appeared to be in need of help.
Soon, she encountered a fork in the cave's path.
"Hello?" she called, hoping the other hadn't fallen unconscious.
"Over here!" the male voice replied immediately.
It was coming from the right, and judging by its volume and clarity, sounded rather close.
She followed it, and found herself in a large, cavernous space. Jagged, tooth-like stalactites hung thickly from the ceiling, and even more wicked stalagmites grew from the ground.
In the center of the cavern stood a man—completely naked. He used one of his hands to cover himself, while the other braced himself on a stalagmite.
"Uh, hi," he said, squinting at the light coming out of Hermione's wand. "This isn't what it looks like."
"Oh, I'm sure it's quite a story." She leaned against the side of the cave, making sure to keep her eyes trained on his. "Which woman did you manage to piss off?"
"It wasn't a woman."
"Oh? You pissed off a man?"
"No!"
"Exploring the caves starkers then? I must say, mister . . ."
"Kirk. Name's James Kirk."
"I must say, Mr Kirk, these caves are no Garden of Eden."
He sighed. "I got in a bit of a skirmish and then somehow ended up here. I'm not sure how."
"A skirmish with who?"
"Peldorians."
She gave him a long look. "Never heard of them."
An uncomfortable silence settled between them.
He cleared his throat, and seemingly searched for something appropriate to say. "Cool flashlight," he blurted out, his gaze settling on her wand.
She narrowed her eyes.
Why wouldn't he recognize a wand? There's no way a Muggle could get through the wards on a dragon sanctuary.
"It's not a flashlight," she replied, taking a step closer.
She analyzed him. There were multiple minor scrapes and bruises all over his body—most likely from being naked inside a cave—and a cut on his forehead, though it was no longer bleeding. This could explain his strange behavior.
"How badly are you hurt?" she asked. "Where is your wand? We ought to take you to a hospital to make sure you don't have a—"
"Whoa! Slow down. First of all, I'm fine—for the most part; just minor injuries. I don't need a hospital, but I would like to get out of here. Second, you wouldn't happen to know where I could find some clothes around here, would you? And some shoes—these rocks are killing my feet. And third, a wand? You mean, like, a magic wand?"
She sighed.
Well, there goes my vacation, she thought, shrugging off her robes.
He eyed her Muggle outfit of jeans and a shirt that said 'Go Read a Book' curiously.
"Let's get you some clothes first, shall we?" she said, pointing her wand at her robes and preparing to transfigure them into something appropriate for him. Though she couldn't help but cast an appreciative glance at his muscular physique.
"Uh, thanks," he said, smirking, as he caught her looking. "Oh, I almost forgot! Can you also tell me where we are and what year it is?"
It had started off as just another ordinary day in the fleet. The Enterprise had been sent to survey a planet, Nimiria II in the Marrab sector. They had been in the middle of studying the unusual composition of the planet's rings, when the sensors had detected a temporal disturbance on the planet's surface.
Upon further investigation, they had discovered that the native inhabitants of the planet, the Nimirians (who'd had a level of civilization comparable to that of the Roman Empire in Earth's history), were nearly wiped out, and the Peldorians—the species who occupied a small section of the southern hemisphere—were responsible for it. The Peldorians had fed on the Nimirians' neural energy to the point of extinction.
Jim had mentally cringed when he had first found out, but there was nothing they could do to help the Nimirians—at least, not without revealing themselves and violating the Prime Directive.
As the away team had been getting ready to leave the planet's surface, they were detected—and that was when they found out that the Peldorians were also shape-shifters and possessed abilities to manipulate the space-time continuum and travel back in time to harvest the energy they fed on. Jim's security chief, Lieutenant Giotto, had been subjected to some sort of mind probe and subsequently killed—or fed upon. It appeared that the Peldorians found human neural energy to be 'tasty.' With their Nimirian food source nigh depleted, the predatory species decided to move on to their new target. A moment later, they had opened a portal and began disappearing through it—horrifically, taking the forms of human men and women.
Their destination had been clear, and the away team had attempted to stop them; unfortunately, nothing had come of it except the destruction of the device the Peldorians had used to open a temporal vortex. The resulting instabilities had caused the deaths of the away team—all but Jim, who'd been sucked into the remains of the portal. He'd reappeared on the other side, disoriented and, to his surprise and unending annoyance, completely naked.
And now he was sitting on a rock (fully dressed, thankfully) just outside the cave he had found himself in, and talking to a strange woman—Hermione Granger—with unusual abilities. She'd used her stick—or a wand as she'd called it—to transform the outer layer of her clothes—her robes—into a jumpsuit for him. She'd also transformed her hair tie into a pair of shoes for him; for some unfathomable reason, everything fit him perfectly.
Jim, understandably, had questions. He'd even attempted to ask them a few times, but each time she'd merely raise a hand, saying, "Your story first."
He told her everything. He didn't really have a choice. He was all alone in the year 2005, and he needed help if those brain-sucking aliens were to be stopped.
And they had to be stopped. He couldn't let Earth suffer the same fate as Nimiria II. Especially not when he and his away team were partially responsible for the Peldorians' presence.
"Alright, Captain Kirk of the starship Enterprise," said Hermione, watching Jim eat a sandwich she'd pulled out of her bottomless bag when his stomach had grumbled at them. "Tell me, what is at the center of our galaxy?"
He finished chewing and then shot back, nonplussed at the sudden question, "Sagittarius A*, a supermassive black hole."
"The closest spiral galaxy to Milky Way?"
"M31 or the Andromeda galaxy."
"Third brightest star in Orion?"
"Viewed from where? What planet?"
She gave him a long look. "Earth."
"Gamma Orionis, or Bellatrix if you prefer the original Arabic name."
She grimaced. "No, I don't prefer that."
Taking an opportunity of the small pause, Jim asked a question of his own, "Newton's third law?"
"For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction."
"How many moons does Mars have?"
"Two. Phobos and Deimos. Why the pop quiz?"
"You started it!" He grinned. "If that's your way of hitting on strangers you find naked in caves, then I like it." He added a flirtatious wink for a good measure.
She rolled her eyes.
"I just wanted to make sure you don't have a serious head trauma that's making you delusional," she said, pointing at the cut on his forehead. "And, if you aren't, that we have some common reference points."
He set his half-eaten sandwich aside, his appetite suddenly disappearing. And here he thought he'd been incredibly lucky to find someone who was helpful and seemed to actually believe his unimaginable story.
He couldn't really blame her though, could he? He wasn't sure he would have believed her either, had the situations been reversed.
He stood and brushed off imaginary dust off his pants. "I'm not delusional!" he protested grumpily. "Every word I said is true!"
She rose to her feet and placed a hand on his forearm, staring him dead in the eyes. "I believe you."
"You do?"
She nodded and removed her hand. For some reason, Jim wished she hadn't done that.
"Why? Because I passed your little quiz?"
She shrugged. "That, and because very few would make up a story like that."
"What if I'm one of those few with a really wild imagination?"
"Are you now trying to convince me not to believe you?"
"No! Of course not." He raised a placating hand, then exhaled and ran it through his hair. "Will you help me then?"
"With the fate of the human race in the balance? Is that even a question?"
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet." She sighed and looked around. "You better sit down. If we are to save the world from these aliens, we'll need help. And you'll need to know what to expect."
He settled back on the rock and looked at her expectantly. "Are you going to tell me about yourself, and how you can do what you do with that?" he asked, pointing at her wand.
She nodded. "But first I'd like to ask you one more question."
"Shoot."
"Have you really never met anyone with magical abilities in the future?"
He contemplated her question. "Well, being an explorer, I came across some people with unusual abilities, like mind-reading, telekinesis, illusions—which some might consider to be magical. But nothing like what I've seen you do so far. And certainly not on Earth."
She looked troubled by this statement, but gave her head a slight shake and forced a smile. "I'll worry about it later."
Hermione opened her mouth to continue, when some kind of holographic dragon suddenly manifested itself in front of her and began speaking with a voice of a male, "Andrei was just found dead. I'm worried sick. Get back to the main building immediately."
Jim was happy he was sitting. The sight was simultaneously stupefying and terrifying. Not that Jim had never seen a dragon before—he had, on Berengaria VII. But those dragons looked different and sure as hell didn't talk.
He opened his mouth to ask questions, but she turned to him and held out a hand. "We're going for a ride. Hold on tight and don't let go. Fair warning, you might throw up. First time is always difficult."
Jim eyed her suspiciously for a moment before deciding, Ah, what the hell?
He took her hand. "What exactly are we—"
He was cut short by the feeling of being squeezed through a very tight rubber tube.
Five months later
Hermione dodged a beam of light from the Peldorians' head tentacle, and huffed a deep breath of air.
"Bother! I can't even go on vacation anymore without attracting some sort of trouble," she grumbled.
"What was that, Hermione?" shouted Harry, sprinting past her to chase a wounded Peldorian and fire a Confringo at it. It exploded mid-air, and Harry barely had the time to raise a Shield Charm to prevent himself from being splattered by green slime.
"Nothing, Harry! Watch your left!" She fired a Reducto at the alien who came at Harry while he was otherwise preoccupied.
"Thanks!" he said and ran off to help Neville.
"Auror down!" bellowed Ron from the other side of the clearing where he fought alongside Henthorn. "Someone activate his Emergency Portkey before one of the aliens sucks his brains right out!"
Further down along the treeline, Hermione noticed Fogarty lying unconscious on the ground. She had the distinct thought that she'd heard him yell Protego a few seconds ago.
Idiot, she thought. He was clearly told that Shield Charms are ineffective against alien energy beams.
"On it!" replied Patinkin, racing towards her fallen colleague.
"Hermione," gasped Jim, popping up beside her, the EM weapon of his own creation ready to shoot. "There's something wrong with one of the devices!"
Two Peldorians shape-shifted into dragons and came at them, roaring and breathing fire—they'd developed an unfortunate fondness for the form after emerging from the Sanctuary.
"What?" she asked, firing first Conjunctivitis curse at the dragons and then a series of Blasting curses, while Jim shot at them with his weapon.
A large chunk of a dragon headed directly for Hermione, and Jim quickly pulled her out of its way and towards himself. They stood there for a moment, breathing heavily, his arm around her waist, her hand on his shoulder.
"You were saying?" she asked, her gaze briefly travelling down to his lips, before she jerked them both to the side to avoid another alien energy beam.
"The devices . . . the ones you and I designed and built in order to trap those suckers in an energy field that nullifies their abilities to—"
"Yes, I know what devices you're talking about. Skip to the end."
"One of them's malfunctioning."
She pulled away and surveyed the clearing they were fighting in. Indeed, the aliens, taking advantage of the gap in their defenses, were gaining the upper hand by going in and out of phase and making it impossible for the Aurors to take them out.
After five months of tracking down what Jim called 'triolic waves' (the technical term for the energy signature the Peldorians left in their wake) and setting up a number of traps for the Peldorians, their current fight with the aliens had all indications of being the final confrontation—whatever the end. They couldn't lose now.
"First we have to find out which one it is," she said determinedly, her eyes roaming the perimeter they'd set up, as if the malfunctioning device might jump out and give a sign.
"You circle around the left, while I go right, and then we meet in the center?" he suggested.
She nodded and turned to leave.
"I have a hunch it's the emitters, so check them first!" he threw over his shoulder, dodging an energy beam from an alien that came out of phase directly ahead.
Hermione reached the closest device and dropped down on one knee to analyze it.
"Not this one," she muttered to herself, before Apparating to the next one.
She quickly glanced over the battlefield once more. The Aurors were dropping like flies. Thankfully, they were currently only unconscious, since the Peldorians needed their human victims alive to feast on. But it fell to those still standing to juggle the ongoing fight with sending their unconscious colleagues to safety as quickly as possible. Thanks to a custom Muggle-Repelling Charm, keyed specifically to the Peldorians, the aliens couldn't escape from the clearing—at least, not immediately. But every human present was certainly in danger of being fed upon.
As Hermione was checking her fifth device, Jim yelled from across the clearing, "Found it! And it is one of the emitters!"
She Apparated to him. "Do you need a hand?"
"Nah, I got it. Just rerouting power to backups."
"How long?"
"A minute or so." He looked up and smirked. "Can't wait to give those suckers hell, can you, sweetheart?"
"Can't wait for all this to be over," she corrected, and then, noticing one of her colleagues fall unconscious, she Apparated to activate his Emergency Portkey.
Just as she finished her task, Jim yelled, "We're back in business!"
It was as if that simple statement gave her a second wind, and Hermione threw herself into battle with abandon, firing curse after curse at any remaining Peldorian she could see. The enemy fought viciously, like wounded animals backed into a corner. They struck out with everything they had, shapeshifting into different, faster and more deadly creatures.
"Die, you slimy, shape-shifting, time-travelling alien piece of dung!" shouted Ron, dispatching his opponent.
"You forgot to add 'brain-sucking'!" added Neville, blasting another. "With a special liking for us magical folk!"
"Hermione, look out!" yelled Jim, and next moment she found herself on the ground with him on top of her, an energy beam passing through the space she'd been in just a second ago.
Jim lifted his head and met her gaze. "Saved you again."
"I was only in danger of being knocked unconscious," she retorted. "This was just an excuse to get your hands on me."
"That too, sweetheart."
"Oi, we've got a battle to win!" Harry said, backing up towards them as he covered their fall. "Is this the time to flirt?"
Jim rose to his feet, pulling Hermione with him, and rejoined the fight. "We're multitasking!"
A few moments later, everything in the clearing fell silent, the remaining Aurors panting heavily with exertion.
Ron doubled over to catch his breath. "Do you think we got all those bastards?" he asked no one in particular. "Can we have a sit down now?"
"I don't know, Ron," replied Hermione. "This entire area is now saturated with triolic waves—"
"Which means it's time for us all to get outta here," cut in Jim. "Prolonged exposure to triolic waves—"
"—is harmful to humans," finished Hermione. "Yes, I know."
"He's right," agreed Harry, nodding at Jim. "We should leave and send the next team to comb through this area to make sure we got everyone, and to deal with the aftermath."
"And don't forget to take your potion that counters the effects of the harmful waves," reminded Neville.
There were murmurs of acquiescence, and sighs of relief, as everyone prepared to leave.
Jim came up behind Hermione and snaked a hand around her waist. She nearly jumped, her heart beating faster—and it had nothing to do with being startled, and everything to do with his physical proximity.
"Now that this is over," he murmured into her ear, "you have no excuse not to go on a date with me."
She turned in his arms and met his gaze. "I was never looking for an excuse."
"Weren't you?"
She shook her head, one of her hands sliding over his chest, and opened her mouth to speak.
"Oh, why don't you kiss already?" teased Ron. "The sexual tension is rolling off you two in waves."
Hermione felt her cheeks heating up. "You know, Ronald, sexual tension isn't like steam rising off the water, so I'm not sure you'd recognize it if it bit you in the arse."
Her friend laughed in response. "Love you too, 'Mione!"
"Sexual tension or not, get out of here!" said Harry. "All of you!"
"Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full, sir," replied Jim cheekily.
And then he learned down and kissed Hermione. She activated her Portkey, and they disappeared in a flash.
"Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that's no matter—tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther . . . And one fine morning—
"So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.*"
Jim closed the book and set it aside. "The end. Did you fall asleep?" he murmured, placing a soft kiss just below her ear.
Hermione smiled, though her eyes remained shut, and relaxed further against him from where she was sitting between his legs. "No. I was merely enjoying the story and the sound of your voice, and thinking how wonderful it would be to hear it for the rest of my life."
He pressed his cheek to hers and wrapped both arms around her middle. "Your wish is my command. I can't imagine spending the rest of my life with anyone else but you."
She reached a hand to caress his cheek, but didn't say anything. For a long moment they simply sat there under the shade of an old oak tree, enjoying the singing of the birds, the warm breeze, and each other's company.
"Is it just my imagination, or are you a bit tense, sweetheart?" he asked after a while.
"I just can't shake the feeling that something's about to happen."
"Is it because of what happened the last time you went on vacation?" He tightened his arms around her. "Relax, there won't be any time-travelling aliens this time."
She traced a muscle on his forearm with her index finger. "How can you be so sure?"
"If nothing else, let's just say you cannot step into the same river twice."
"That's supposed to make me feel better?"
He threw his head back and laughed. "You worry too much. I think I'm going to have to find an activity that'll keep you preoccupied enough to not think about anything else. Any ideas?" he finished suggestively.
She turned sideways, placing her legs over his thigh, and ran a finger down his chest. "I might have one or two," she said, her dark eyes sparkling with mischief.
His fingers drifted over her face, tracing its sweet contours, memorizing every nuance. And then he kissed her—tenderly at first, then more and more passionately, until all other thoughts seeped out through his pores and he became a living pulse, conscious only of her lips on his, her hands in his hair, his hands on her waist. He felt intoxicated by the scent and taste and feel of her. It was like tiny fireworks going off all over him. He never wanted to stop kissing her—
"Well, looky what we have here," groused a familiar voice.
"I don't think they even heard us coming," remarked Ron, grinning widely.
"Sorry to interrupt your little getaway," said Harry apologetically, and then indicated Jim's friends. "But these people said they had to see you immediately, Jim. Said it was urgent."
Jim, somewhat dazed, couldn't believe his eyes. "B-bones? Spock?"
Hermione rose to her feet. Jim followed her example, and took her hand in his, intertwining their fingers.
Bones eyed their joint hands and shook his head in disbelief, crossing his arms. "Unbelievable. We lose you for several months, and then find you locked in a passionate kiss with a beautiful woman."
"At least they were only kissing," said Harry, grinning.
Bones' eyes widened in horror. "Damn right."
Jim snaked a hand around Hermione's waist and pulled her against his side. "I'm not hallucinating, am I, sweetheart?" he asked, looking between her and his friends.
Bones rolled his eyes. "You're not hallucinating. Do you want me to hit you to prove it to you?"
"How-how did you get here?" Jim asked Bones and Spock.
Seeing his friends in this time made him realize just how much he'd missed them during all these months. Not that he'd really had much time to stop and properly think about his situation, what with trying to find and eliminate the extraterrestrial threat. And after that . . . Well, the woman standing next to him occupied most of his thoughts and time as of late, and he'd even begun to think that maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he were to stay in the past.
After all, you only live once. So, might as well make the most of what he had.
"It's a long story, Jim," replied Bones.
Jim gave his head a slight shake. "The device the Peldorians used to travel back in time was destroyed!" He eyed their Starfleet issued uniforms and tricorders. "And how come you got to keep your clothes on, and I didn't?"
Spock raised an eyebrow. "I am afraid all explanations will have to wait, captain. The temporal vortex that will take us back to our time will destabilize in approximately nineteen minutes."
"Say your goodbyes, and let's go," added Bones.
Jim turned to Hermione, pressing her against himself almost desperately. "What I said earlier, about wanting to spend the rest of my life with you—I meant every word of it."
"So did I," she replied earnestly, her eyes tearing up, her mouth twisting.
"Then we have nineteen minutes—"
"Seventeen," corrected Spock, consulting his tricorder. "I have compensated for the time it would take us to travel back to the vortex via a . . . Portkey."
"So we have seventeen minutes to figure this out," said Jim, his eyes searching Hermione's face. "What'll it be? Your time or mine?"
A/N. *Belongs to F. Scott Fitzgerald. I merely borrowed it here :)
After much deliberation, I've decided to end the story on a cliffhanger of sorts—at least for now. I may or may not pick this back up at a later date and expand upon (for now, I'd like to concentrate on the two WIPs I'm working on). The important thing is that Hermione and Jim stay together. In whose time? That is up to you, the reader, to decide. Does Hermione go with Jim, or does Jim stay? What does their future look like according to your imagination?
Also, this story was loosely inspired by ST:TNG S05E26 and S06E01 "Time's Arrow," Parts 1 and 2.
Thank you for reading!