What Makes Us
Chapter One: Constant Vigilance
Like him that travels, I return again;
Just to the time, not with the time exchanged.
July 2000
"Oh, go on – not even the general area?"
Hermione laughed, shaking her head. "I'm afraid not."
"Come off it," said Ron, incredulously. "It's not like we're complete outsiders, we're only bloody Aurors, aren't we?"
"Not yet," Harry reminded him. "Still got to qualify."
"Then why does she get to be an Unspeakable already? With the secrecy...everything's a secret..."
Hermione smiled a little as Ron grumbled some more, clearly very much put out that the confidentiality which bound all those who worked in the Department of Mysteries was depriving him of learning about Hermione's projects at work. Still, Hermione was glad that things had largely returned to normal between them; that they had managed to put the break-up behind them. In the immediate aftermath, it had been easy to believe that their friendship would never recover.
Presently, Harry was saying, "Well, at least we can tell you what we've been up to."
Hermione nodded, keen to hear more about their latest missions. The war had been won, but there were still Death Eaters to track. A significant number had yet to surrender. What their plan was, however, now that Voldemort was truly gone, she was not quite sure.
Harry glanced around the room before speaking; the three of them sat in one corner of the living room at The Burrow. The room had been simply but lovingly decorated for Harry's birthday gathering later that evening, but they were alone for now, taking the opportunity to catch up before the others arrived.
Harry said, "We've started tracking them closely, the Death Eaters – one of our Aurors has been following a couple of them, and now she reckons they've hatched a plan of some sort."
"What sort of plan?" Hermione looked from Harry to Ron, who jumped in.
"We think they're building some sort of device, something that'll - bring him back, maybe."
"But...surely that's impossible," she said, perplexed, looking between them. "He's gone. All the Horcruxes, too. Right?"
Ron nodded. "They must be desperate, s'what I said."
"But," Harry said, "unless, it's like Tonks said, that it's about changing all that."
"Changing - you mean changing what happened?"
"Yeah," said Ron. "Like you two did, in Third Year."
"Right," Harry said. "Only, the time-turners - there aren't any more left, are there? Not after - what happened to them."
She knew he meant the battle at the Department of Mysteries that had taken place in their fifth year at Hogwarts, the battle where they'd lost Sirius.
"Right," she said, quietly, "The Ministry has none left, at least for now. But I suppose that doesn't mean that someone who really wanted one couldn't acquire one from elsewhere, or possibly try to create one themselves."
"Reckon they're trying that, then," said Ron, darkly. "Creating one. Tonks said there'd been a lot of excitement on their end. Like whatever they were planning would be ready soon, or like they'd come up with some hex-proof plan for getting there."
They were quiet for a moment. Hermione traced and retraced the rim of her now-empty mug, mulling over the possibilities, silently acknowledging the fear and anger that stirred in her stomach. They went on, the dark wizards; they kept going. Constant vigilance, ever necessary, was draining.
"Anyway, I know you can't say what you're doing," Ron grunted, breaking the somewhat morose silence, "but just a heads-up, in case they go after the time stuff in your Department."
Hermione nodded. "Thank you."
She had, in fact, been assigned to the Time Room within the Department of Mysteries, and had spent the past year working with the infinitum jar - the bell jar which could cause a bird to perpetually cycle through from birth to death and back again. She had recently joined the team who worked on Time, and she had taken over the testing of the bell jar, trying to understand the way it distorted time and space, matter and energy. If the powers of the jar could be understood, if it could be harnessed - the possibilities were limitless, and also highly dangerous.
"Wotcher, birthday boy," came a bright voice. It was accompanied by a paper-wrapped package landing squarely in Harry's lap. "From me and Remus."
Harry looked up, grinning. "Thanks, Tonks!"
Tonks had sat down beside Hermione, beaming around at each of them. "Glad to see you all together, I must say."
"You've just seen us two," Ron pointed out, jerking his chin at the aforementioned birthday boy.
"Nice to see you, then, Hermione," said Tonks, with a wink.
"Where's Remus?" Harry asked, hefting the package in his hands.
"Got accosted by Molly."
"What d'you mean?" Ron had grabbed Harry's gift, and was now listening intently whilst gently shaking it.
"No doubt asking about kids again," Tonks grinned. "And watch it, Weasley, you'll break that before he's even opened it."
Hermione asked, amused, "She still hasn't fully accepted you're not planning on having kids?"
Tonks sighed. "I think it's just a very alien concept for her..."
Remus entered the room, looking slightly harried until he spotted Hermione and Tonks watching him with amused expressions. He chuckled then as he joined them, wishing Harry a happy birthday. The others arrived soon after him, and several hours later, after a hearty and raucous meal, everyone paid a visit to the backyard to have a look at Arthur's latest acquisitions of muggle technology. Hermione found herself examining a vacuum that had been carefully implanted in a patch of soil, as if it were some sort of stout, strange shrub.
"Haven't seen one of those in a while," observed Remus, joining her.
"You used them?"
"Oh, yes. And my mum did." He smiled. "No matter how many times my dad said he'd cover everything, spells were so much faster..."
Hermione laughed, thinking fondly of her own parents. A comfortable silence fell between them as they made their way together to the next exhibit, where Arthur had arranged an old computer on a gardening bench. Remus reached out and ran a hand over the keyboard, but before she could enquire as to his computing skills, she noticed a new scar which ran, reddish pink, across the width of his hand, and which looked as if it had only healed recently.
She inquired, tentatively, "How've you been, Remus?"
It hadn't been too long since they'd last met, but recently she hadn't quite had a chance to ask what the Order had him doing these days.
"Oh, I'm fine, Hermione." Remus flexed his hand reflexively, having noticed in turn where her attention had been caught. "This...was simply the result of a misunderstanding. I'm still visiting packs these days, but now it's just to talk, and sometimes to offer assistance to those who would like to come and try to live within wizarding society. That sort of thing."
"Oh - amazing." Hermione looked up at him, eyes bright. "I'm so glad you're doing that! And so - have you gotten started on writing your book yet?"
Remus raised his eyebrows, passing the hand which bore the new scar briefly through his hair. "Ah, you speak as if it exists already. Are you still going to push me on that?"
"Of course," she said, stoutly. "No one else can say what you have to say. And especially now, if you're talking to other werewolves who want to see what it's like living with wizards, I'm sure having a book they could read could only help."
Remus laughed as they moved away from Arthur's old computer. "You might be right," he conceded. "There has seemed to be some limited demand for reference material."
As Hermione savoured her victory, the two of them joined Tonks, Ginny, Harry and Ron in front of a large, rusty half of a tractor.
"Impressive," Remus remarked, exchanging a glance with Hermione. Then he smiled down at Tonks, who had wrapped an arm around his waist, and put his arm about her shoulders, bringing her close.
"Mum's really going to murder him this time if he doesn't get rid of this lot, now he's shown it off," said Ron, shaking his head.
Hermione laughed with the others, but found she could not shake the twinge of melancholy that nipped at her heart as she watched the two couples beside her exchange pecks and warm words. She knew that she and Ron had not made a mistake by breaking up. Nevertheless, sometimes she still found herself thinking of the past and all its memories, and once or twice had caught herself wondering, even if absurdly, if perhaps she would never meet anyone again.
What she needed, she thought, was simply more time.
