Disclaimer: nothing but the imagination to write this belongs to me
a/n - as some previous readers would know. This story was originally posted some time ago. A recent reviewer asked me to update. Upon reading the closing sentences I was at a complete loss to know what I had planned to do with it from there. So I decided to take the story down, give it some polish and finish it. So here it is again, hopefully reading better than it did previously, in completed form. Reviews, positive and critical appreciated
Hermione lay down her quill, allowing the six feet of parchment to dry before rolling it up securely. Cupping her cheek, she leaned on her right arm and turned her face to the window. As always the library was her place of solace, the one place that let her mind wander boundless or rest at will. At the moment it chose to wander, travelling far from the importance and uses of Worzelnuts; that filled the books littered before her. It's journey taking her to a far point in time, yet also a time very much here and now for the memory coloured her very existence. Anything that came before or after were just a series of thoughts that could be taken out and played with, the same way a long forgotten toy is.
Outside winter was beginning to bow to the skirts of spring, as the melting and gentle drips of wet snow fell off the trees surrounding the school. With each fresh drip a silent tear traced the mute girls face. Had Hermione not been so rapt in her own thoughts at these moments, she would have noticed the silent watchers who observing her sadness. Sometimes it was her Professors; others her fellow students, each choosing to remain hidden, but for differing reasons. All her Professors knew what had happened, but at her behest said nothing.
Today it was a steady pair of green eyes that looked on, confusion and determination lying within the deep emerald pools. Slipping quietly away Harry walked shrouded in thought. None of it made sense. Outwardly she seemed the same. Her grades had not changed, if anything they were even better, if that were possible. She thrived under the extra responsibility that came with being Head Girl. But, she was different. Why? What was that difference, and when had it happened?
His mind ambled back over the time he'd known her. His best friend, always there when he needed support, a shoulder to cry on, someone to laugh with. Someone to bring him to his senses when he took the road less travelled. At least she had been. No that was a ridiculous thought; of course she still did those things.
Harry stopped dead. Behind him an unsuspecting Ravenclaw, unable to avoid the collision, bumped straight into Harry, nearly sending him sprawling across the floor. Mumbling an apology Harry remained frozen to the spot. That was it that was the difference. Hermione, who had always prided herself in knowing the answer before anyone, no longer stuck up her hand in class every time a question was asked. Hermione the fatalist, no longer said don't do it something bad could happen. The hugs of comfort given when frightened or lonely were replaced with a small smile, and a gentle squeeze of her hand. Finding himself before the portrait, Harry muttered the password. On the inside he was confronted by an awe inspiring scene. A determined looking Ginny, a somewhat terrified but seemingly resolute Neville and a red faced Ron Weasley.
"What are you trying to do, put me in an early grave," Ron was so angry that he literally spat the last word out. "She nearly knitted the cat, when she found out about your last boyfriend Ginny."
"Oh so it's alright for you to have a girlfriend, but the rest of us has to live a life of celibacy."
Harry watched as Neville paled slightly at the last statement. In times of reflection Harry swore if Neville hadn't been rooted to the spot in sheer fear of both Weasley's he'd have blown away with Ron's ensuing tirade. But not even the familiar bickering of Ron and his sister could sway his mind long from the most pressing thought that occupied it.
"When did she change?"
Three confused faces turned towards him Their new argument given way to concern as Harry once more retreated into his brooding.
Being rhetorical Harry had not expected an answer and so turned exiting back through the portrait. He counted back the time in his head. Every thought he had, took him to the department of mysteries, but somehow it didn't seem right.
"When?" He muttered. "Think Harry, when?"
Sorting more memories he pulled the recent one of Christmas, a curious event to say the least. He remembered that McGonagall had opposed the idea, but as always Dumbledore had the final say, stating that if Hermione wished to spend her time at home it was not for them to say no. Harry tried to remember what he thought so odd about McGonagall that day. He sifted further, and brought the image of the Professor's face to mind. He remembered. She was tired and sad looking. Harry then tried to bring Professor Dumbledore's face into focus, and remembered that he had looked much the same way; in fact he held the same look that Harry had seen after the incident in the Department of Mystery's.
Even Ron had gone home that time. With the knowledge that he would be the only one of the trio left; Harry had steeled himself to a boring Christmas alone, but was shocked when Dumbledore said he would be sending Harry to stay with Hermione. Wouldn't that be dangerous? What if Voldemort found out? Dumbledore's only answer had been "Keep what ever you learn there secret, tell no one". What was there to learn, other than dental conferences were apparently big business during the festive season. He turned the memory wheel to what happened while he was there. Each day Hermione would be on the phone to her parents first thing, but he never once heard the phone ring. Hermione always rang them. When he had questioned why she had wanted to come home when she knew her parents would be away, she had only replied that they hadn't expected to be gone this length of time. Present giving had been a short affair too. When he'd asked to see what her parents had given her, she had said it's private, but smiled. Not a full I've got something wicked smile, but a small sort of distant one. Towards the end they had fought. The argument that day nearly as bad as the one they had had in the summer before their sixth year.
Boy he had been angry that day. Everyone had gathered at headquarters, before the start of the school term. Hermione had approached him in the front room, she was going home that day, but had wanted to tell him something before she left. Ease a guilty conscience more like. Hermione earlier confessed to having overheard his conversation regarding the prophecy. As always she was full of advice, standing in front of him with that bloody Hogwarts a History telling him that the answer lay within.
Harry suddenly realised how intense his memory of this day was; the vision lay vivid as a photograph in his minds eye. He winced a little as the cutting words he'd left her with, before storming from the room, echoed through.
"You're a know it all sneak." He screamed, "You have no idea what it's like, you haven't lost your family. You're not welcome, so don't bother coming back."
Of course they had made it up after a frosty period at school, and everything returned to normal. Harry stopped and reappraised this thought. Had it returned to normal then, or had the little hand squeezes and tiny smiles really begun there. He couldn't recall, but what he did remember was that the fight at Christmas had been the resurfacing of that old wound, only this time it didn't end with the book narrowly missing his head. Instead, she had simply told him he was right.
The thoughts shifted like a picture show, skipping through, stopping at the more significant scenes. Now a new one; six friends arriving at Hogsmeade together, making their way back to the castle with use of the carriages. Harry still marvelled at seeing the Thestral's, though once invisible. Even before Sirius's death he had seen their scaly necks, having witnessed the murder of Cedric Diggory. What had shocked him from his quiet reflections was Luna's dreamy singsong voice asking Hermione how she liked them. Harry had jumped in and said, "Hermione can't see them Luna, she has to have experienced a death." With that the subject was idle.
Harry stopped walking aimlessly about and once again returned to the Gryffindor common room. The only occupants now being Neville and Ginny, Ron having left not long after Harry. Ginny smiled warmly at Harry, Neville looked deep in concentration, as though grappling with one of the hardest algebraic equations ever written.
It was Neville, however, who broke the silence. Harry, having taken a seat across from the couple, nearly rocketed through the roof at the sudden sound of Neville's voice. For indeed the first words uttered were almost shouted. Ginny placed a gentle hand on Neville's forearm. Neville began again, this time more quietly.
"Harry, could Sirius' death be why she can see thestrals? I mean Ginny and Ron still can't and they were there?"
Harry's throat constricted at the question, but his mind gave the acceptance he seeked. It was with a strained voice he answered.
"They weren't in the room when it happened."
Sensing dissatisfaction Harry snapped back "What?"
Neville adopted a look, he wholly reserved for the DA meetings in the room of requirements. The determined and dogged look, one that brooked no interference. Harry was slightly taken aback, as it was a side of Neville that normally lay dormant. Ginny inwardly beamed with pride for her beau.
Fixing his gaze on Harry, Neville laid on the table the one piece of logic that had defied Harry's new theory.
"Hermione was unconscious, she didn't find out until later."
Harry jumped up from the armchair as though he had been shot. Racing out through the portrait, only vaguely hearing tuts and comments about indecisive boys, he ran hard to the library. There she was still seated looking out the window. Harry cleared his throat to get her attention. Startled she looked up.
"I was wondering if I could get you to join me in a walk around the grounds."
She looked as though she were about to refuse, so he quickly added
"I don't want to walk alone, but everyone else has paired off for today, and you know what they say". He paused
Hermione had started to rise and collect her things. "What do they say Harry?"
With a smile, and captive gaze, he continued. "Two's company, three's a crowd".
Hermione gently squeezed his hand and smiled. "Alright, I'll walk with you, but lets drop my bag off in the common room first, I don't fancy lugging this around."
Harry's smile wavered, as the distance reaffirmed itself between them.
Walking through the doors of the entrance hall, Harry linked his arm with Hermione's and threaded their fingers together. Hermione gave a questioning look, but returned her gaze forward when no answer presented itself. Not until they were well away from the castle did Harry break the silent spell around them. Squeezing her hand, he asked the single question that Hermione had hoped to avoid, and one that in his heart and painful memories he already knew the answer to.
"When did they die Hermione?"
Hermione pulled to free her hand, but Harry tightened his grip.
"I..I..Don't know what you're talking about." She stammered
Harry looked about them to make sure no one was nearby listening. "You do know, " he answered quietly.
Hermione's face dissolved into tears, her body bouncing slightly in agitation as she looked for a way to escape her present confinement.
"I..I..Don't, I want to go back now, please let me go." She said quietly
"No!"
Hermione collapsed to her knees and stared ahead no longer seeing or hearing, just gazing fixedly before her.
Laughter filled the air and a cruel "Nice one Potter, about time someone did the mud blood in." Rang through stillness as Malfoy and his cronies ran back towards the castle.
Harry was caught, part of him wanted to chase after Malfoy and make the slimy little snake squirm, but the greater part knew that if he did, he'd lose Hermione forever. Sighing in frustration, he ran his hand through his hair then knelt in front of her. Taking her face between his hands, he leaned forward and kissed her forehead. Resting his own against hers he sighed again.
"They're quite interesting, aren't they." Said Hermione, in a far away voice.
She could feel Harry frown, but didn't enlighten him. The puckered forehead relaxed as realisation sunk in.
"Yes, but I'd rather you'd not seen them." He answered.
Hermione nodded, moving his head in unison. Harry's mouth twitched with a small smile. But sobered quickly at her next words.
"You can't save everyone Harry."
Harry propelled himself upwards with a fierceness only seen in his duels against Voldemort. "I can, and I will." He spat.
He watched the distance grow between them again, fear replaced anger, and terror mixed with remorse stole across his countenance.
"Don't Mione, please don't." He said shaking his head. "I'm here for you, I need you, I want you back."
"I'm always there for you Harry." She said quietly.
"No, you're not, you're different."
She considered this for a moment and then gave a small shrug.
"See," said Harry waving his arm at her, "this what I'm talking about."
She watched him quietly.
"I miss the bear hugs, the do as I say advice, I miss…I miss um," Harry stood flapping his arms about wildly trying to emphasise his point, "I miss you. You're not you anymore."
Harry felt as though his heart would break as she gave another of those small smiles. He hung his head defeated. Hermione stood and brushed off her knees and came before him. Lifting his chin, she looked him deep in the eyes. Brown searched green.
"Neither are you."
Hermione started back towards the castle. She seemed to sense that Harry had not moved. Looking back over her shoulder, she saw him just staring at the ground, anger and sadness etched in the tight lines on his face.
"Aren't you coming?"
Harry didn't look up, he just shook his head, Hermione continued walking. Once she would have tried coaxing him, and if that didn't work an argument would have ensued. But not now, this as everything was with Hermione now, non-committal.
Looking up at the darkening sky, Harry felt the temperature drop and in the still air a fresh fall of snow began. Dimly he could hear music and with stealth made his way towards it. Standing outside Hagrids hut he noticed that the music seemed distinctly louder. Reaching he knocked on Hagrids door, stepping back in surprise as Dumbledore's solemn eyes locked with his own.
"Ah Harry, we were wondering when you would come."
Harry blinked a couple of times. "You-You was?" He stammered.
"Course 'Arry, you don't think we, that is to say, um well, come on in out of the cold and we'll discuss it better over a 'ot drink."
"What Hagrid is trying to say is that our eye's and minds are not closed to what is happening around us."
Harry stared at the headmaster. "I don't understand sir."
Dumbledore seated himself across from Harry, his face impassive. "I believe Harry that you do, know only this that when you wish help it is yours for the taking. Time as you know has a way of mending that which is broken, even though it should seem irreparable."
Hagrid nodded agreement, as he handed Harry a large cup and saucer. Balancing them on his lap, Harry turned his gaze once more to the Professor before him, his mind racing. A short while later he laid the cup and saucer aside and rose from his seat.
"I think I understand your meaning, I better return to the castle or I'll be in detention with Snape til the end of my days."
"Professor Snape, Harry." Corrected Dumbledore, a small smile cutting through the gravity.
Climbing through the portrait, Harry found the common room to be it's usual bustling self. Ron was slaving over a potions essay, while Hermione was curled up asleep in the armchair by the fire. Reading over his work, Ginny handed Ron's essay back with a nod of approval.
"Well I think I'll be off to bed now, I better wake Hermione and make her go up too."
Harry jumped up like a startled rabbit. He had been seated quietly on the couch near Hermione, oblivious to the noises around him.
"Um why not let her sleep a bit longer, I'll make sure she gets to bed."
"How Harry, boys aren't allowed in the girls dormitory." Retorted Ron.
"Honestly Ron, I don't mean that I will personally take her up, I'll just wake her and wait until she goes up the stairs."
Ginny looked dubious, but shrugged. "Okay".
Giving Neville a quick kiss she ran upstairs and closed the door behind her.
"Mental that one I'm tellin' you."
Harry saw Neville draw himself up ready to step in at his loves defence, not wanting the inevitable shouting match to begin, he quickly suggested that they both head to the boys dormitory as they were looking frazzled themselves.
Yawning widely Ron nodded his agreement, and walked away none the wiser from the huffing Neville.
It was nice, the warm quiet of the room, no one talking around or at him. Harry bridged his fingers and tapped them gently against his lips, his mind full of possibilities. He studied the quiet form curled up in the chair next to him, his eyes roamed her body looking for the tell tale signs that she had what he needed. He suspected she did, but now came the harder question. How to get it? No not even that was the hardest to answer. The question of how to use it loomed ominously in the fore of his mind. There was only one way to, and that was to have Hermione do it. The new presentiment of getting Hermione to do it appeared; what possible excuse could he give?
Harry sighed loudly, causing the tired girl to rouse.
"Why aren't you in bed yet?" She asked pushing herself to a more upright position.
"Just thinking that's all."
"About what." The 'what' distorted by yawn she tried to stifle.
He was caught with nowhere to run. Thankful only that Hermione was as unpractised as he at occlumancy. In the end he opted for truth. Well half truth anyway.
"I was thinking about all that we've been through, and what we can do from here."
"We, being the fighters for good, or we, you and me?"
"Both."
He took her hand tightly between his own. "I can save everyone, just you wait. I'll show you."
"How Harry?" Her voice defeated and weary by the whole scale of things.
"Time is always of the essence." He said simply.
Her brow furrowed. She was tired beyond all possible comprehension letting the subtlety elude her. Within seconds the fog cleared and clarity shone brightly before her.
"You can't." She hissed. "It's improper use, I'd be expelled."
"Well tell me how to use it and I'll do it alone." He said simply.
Incredulity washed over her. "And how would I explain it ending in your hands."
"I stole it." Succinct like before.
"Without me knowing it!" Her voice was starting to rise.
Harry gestured wildly for her to keep it down.
"No, I won't. It's wrong."
"Why is it wrong, what harm did your parents do? What harm could it do?"
"No."
"Why? Answer me WHY?"
She twisted her fingers. "Because other things would change."
Harry was truly confused. "Of course, but isn't that a good thing."
"No it's not. You would change."
His puzzlement grew deeper. "I don't understand."
"Harry I may never be whole again, but I can live with that." She could see he was lost still.
"What I'm trying to say is that if you change one small thing, then you'll have to change another and then another until you have completely rewritten the book of the future. What would you be, where would you be? And what if by changing one of those things that were bad it resulted in hundreds more equally devastating if not worse events to happen. Would you then become the tyrant instead of Voldemort?"
Harry's jaw clenched. "I will never be like him."
"No, because what your parents death and your own near death made you. Leave it alone Harry. Be satisfied with those victories you have and look to future ones don't try to conquer the past as well."
Shifting her legs from under her she wiggled them a bit to ease the sharp stabs from her blood resuming its flow. With enough feeling to stand she waited for Harry to rise also. Gripping him as tightly as she could, she whispered in his ear.
"And I'll be there to see you don't do anything stupid."
Harry watched as she ascended the staircase to the girls rooms. Stopping at the top she turned and smiled. A warm full smile, waiting until the door closed, leaving him alone in the room; Harry raced up the stairs to his own sleeping quarters.
Grabbing his cloak he flung it about him and ran as fast and quietly as he could to Dumbledore. He hadn't even spoken the password when the gargoyle turned about revealing the winding staircase. Reaching the door, he heard Dumbledore's voice inviting him through.
"At last Harry, I had nearly given up on you tonight." Though the mouth did not curl, a smile could be seen through the Headmasters weary grey eyes.
"Well Harry, have you achieved what you had to?"
"She wouldn't do it Professor. I don't know how to and she wouldn't help me."
"Know how to what Harry?"
"Return to the past. To go back to when her parents died."
Dumbledore nodded, all the while running his fingertips thoughtfully against each other.
"Did she tell you why she wouldn't."
"She raved about it being wrong, how one small thing would lead to another and then another. She said that I would be the tyrant not Voldemort. She said that I needed to face the future and leave the past alone." Harry himself was ranting now, as all the emotion of the day wended through him.
Dumbledore remained as composed as ever, merely uttering. "How very fatalistic, yet insightful. So." He paused, Harry waited expectantly. "Very like Miss Granger. Gone on Harry, did she say or do anything else?"
"She just said that I wasn't to do anything stupid, that she'd…." His voice trailed off.
"Yes Harry." Dumbledore prompted.
Harry was once again caught in his own world. Hermione's words, Dumbledores also whirling through his mind. The Hug! The smile!
"I'll ask you again then shall I." The smile shadowed Dumbledore's mouth this time. "Did you achieve what you had to."
Looking him squarely in the face Harry replied.
"Yes Professor, I think I did."