December 25th, 2004
Tucking her teeth between rosy lips, she pulled her long-borrowed sweater tighter around herself as she stood on her balcony, staring out into the sea. The scratchiness was long gone from how much she had over worn the knitted fabric, finding comfort in the familiarity of it. At times she felt as if her time with the time turners throughout her schooling had aged her far more than she would readily admit. At moments like this, when she knew that the Weasley family all sat a floor below her, enjoying their time together and readily accepting moments of togetherness when they could, she often felt older, much older than her best friends and second family. She had noticed this in the differences between people like Sirius and Remus, that sometimes life weighed heavier on people, even when they didn't want to admit it. She had seen it a lot after the war, some people grew up very quickly, and some still held on to the glory of youth by their fingernails. Her youth had plummeted like the rocks that she watched fall off the edge of the cliff side into the ocean.
Pulling her cup of tea off of the railing, she sighed at its warmth filling her, idly fingering the scar that stretched wildly from her sternum to the edge of her hip on her right side. She didn't hide from her scars, they meant she had survived, they meant she had been strong, cunning, and brave. Many of her surrogate family downstairs flinched or stared for many moments too long for proprieties sake when they caught glimpses of her scars. She tried not to make anyone uncomfortable, but she often wondered at the chance to have someone be proud of her for having taken all her blows and still come out relatively unscathed instead of the pitying stares and words of encouragement that 'she would find someone who didn't mind them', well intentioned, but incredibly tactless. She wondered often what it would look like, picturing if her parents would be proud of her if they could remember her, or if they too, would look at her with sympathetic glances and guilty stares.
Her parents were a topic that no one would touch or even graze with much courage, she didn't blame them, even the thought of her father's curls that matched her own brushing against her cheek in a hug or the quick-witted mind of her mother that she had inherited burned her heart tightly within her rib cage. They were still safe, happily in Brisbane, Australia, unaware that they had ever had a daughter, much less one who had adored them with everything within herself who had gone to war with a madman. When she peered back to the days leading up to the war, she held a lot of guilt, she hadn't appreciated the simplicity of her life or the easiness that had come with being the daughter of two dentists. Wendel and Monica Wilkins were safe and at the end of the day that was most important to her, even when it was difficult.
"'Mione, are you alright?" The breaking of her wayward thoughts came from Harry, a gentle hand laying against her elbow as she tucked a lock of wild hair behind her ear, turning to face the messy haired hero, green hues peering at her in concern. She smiled reassuringly, patting his hand gently, she was always grateful for him, if he noticed she had been gone longer than necessary to calm her anxiety, he would always be the first to seek her out after Crookshanks would assess her to make sure she wasn't curled up in a corner having flashbacks or the rather bad days where she wouldn't leave her bed for any reason.
"I'm fine, just got lost in my thoughts. Should we go back down?" It wasn't a lie, she was fine, but 'fine' was the kind of word that had multiple meanings to different people. To Ron, it had meant that she was perfectly well, but Harry understood it meant more along the lines of, 'I'll be okay, just not quite yet.'
It had been years since she and Ron had split off, not being able to hold together through the grief and trauma after the war for more than a year, though somehow Ginny and Harry had become closer because of it. Luckily her split from Ron had been gentle, no crazy blow ups or bad fights, it was like they had both woke up and realized it wasn't working. She had rationalized a long time ago that like Harry's parents, he and Ginny had been tied together by forces beyond them, though fate wasn't something she particularly subscribed to, if there was a couple that would have made her believe in it, it was them.
He held her gaze for a moment, as if searching to see if she was being honest before smiling and nodding, taking the steps down two at a time down to her sitting room. He got called away by a shout from Ron in her office, complete with a much-less-annoying Lavender perched at his side while discussing wizard chess. She had aged well, growing out of her simpering neediness but still filling that void of being wanted in Ron.
This cottage nearly oozed out her personality, with floor to ceiling bookshelves, cozy armchairs and couches, gentle lighting perfect for reading under, and side tables perfect for tea and snacks. She loved this place, even if it was really removed from everyone else, it still held plenty of extra rooms for people to stay and feel welcome when she was up for company.
"Ah there she is, how are you dear girl?" Arthur's kind voice met her ears as she crossed back through the threshold, quickly being wrapped up in a fatherly hug as she smiled at him. He'd taken up the roll without a second thought when Harry, Ron, and Kingsley had to explain that she couldn't undo the obliviate spell on her parents.
Letting him tuck her under his arm, he squeezed her shoulder gently, "I'm okay, excited to get back to work soon, I think I'm starting to go a little stir crazy with this holiday." She laughed lightly with him, watching the rest of the family and friends around them with fondness. This had become habit among them all since the war, rotating homes to visit with everyone, make sure that the hurt from the past wasn't creeping in on anyone. It had been six years since the war, but it didn't seem right to stop seeing everyone regularly once they had started.
A gentle tugging on the left side of her skirt brought her eyes to Teddy Lupin, making her fond smile grow wider as she ducked under Arthur's arm to kneel beside the small boy. Gently tucking strands of his messy hair into place as it rotated colors every few moments, he was nearly the spitting image of Remus in his face, but his hair was all Tonks. He lifted his arms to wrap around her shoulders before she lifted him to rest on her hip, grateful for his sweet disposition as she began to walk around to check on everyone.
She could hear Molly and Ginny in the kitchen, following the sounds of their banter, sighing in happiness at the smell of Weasley women's cooking. Give her a potion recipe and she could make it without a problem, but cooking was something she had never gotten a hang of. "Molly, it smells lovely in here. Do you need any help?" she offered gently, only to be given a firm 'No.' in response from both red heads, she giggled, the two women were more alike than ever as Ginny had gotten older. With James in an enchanted cradle, she and Teddy waved to the wide-awake little toddler before making their exit. Motherhood looked good on Ginny, but she was turning into a mini-Molly as time went on. She had no doubt it would only increase as she raised all her children into their teenage years.
Moving back into the living space she almost ran right into Charlie, his arm thrown around George as they bantered back and forth much like the twins had before Fred's passing. That had happened almost immediately after the war, Charlie returned home from Romania to ease the grief of the loss, fitting tightly into the spot that George needed. They had been so grateful to him, and when he had to leave for the dragons again, he made the promise to return more often, and he had, more than he ever had before.
She laughed as they stole the petite boy from her arms, swinging him into their mischief within moments. Her head shook as she watched them in the doorway, jumping only slightly as a pale hand pressed into her shoulder, meeting grey eyes quickly before smiling up at the Malfoy heir. The reunion of Narcissa and Andromeda had brought along the unlikely friendship between Draco and her. There had been a lot of tense moments over coffee, and more invasions of her office than she cared to admit, but he was the first one to get her to talk about her experience in Malfoy Manor, and one of the few who knew that her parent's absence burned a hole in her chest. "Merry Christmas Granger." He muttered, leaning on the other side of the doorway beside her as they both turned their gazes to the sitting room where Narcissa wrapped Andromeda in a familiar hug, introducing the beautiful youngest daughter of the Greengrass family as she parted.
Astoria was petite, demure, and complimented Draco perfectly if she was honest. She would never forget his face when the wavy-haired blonde with blue eyes had walked into the Department of Mysteries, Ron leading her into their workspace. He hadn't been able to take his eyes off her, even daring to flush when she had smiled at him kindly. That was close to two years ago, and now the couple were a force to be reckoned with. Astoria was the perfect compliment to Narcissa's colder nature, often smoothing over difficult conversations, filled with charisma and charming smiles that wrapped around the rooms she entered. Narcissa and Lucius hadn't approved of her at first, but it was truly difficult not to adore her over time, though Lucius still wasn't very fond of her. The elder Malfoy wasn't particularly a fan of anyone, thus him not being welcome in her home.
"She's sick, you know." He whispered just loud enough for her to hear, her curls dancing around her shoulders as she turned her face to look at him, her eyes shifting between him and Astoria quickly. She didn't look sick, but she was also in front of people that she wasn't super close to. While she was filled with kindness, she was a Slytherin to her core and would never show weakness unless she knew it was safe.
"I didn't. She hadn't told me anything. What do the healers say?" she whispered back, her eyes staring at him now, the tenseness in his shoulders speaking more than he would admit openly. Astoria had become a companion for her easily, her rejection of notions of blood purity drawing her to the witch easily. When she had asked her if her family was a part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight the witch had outright laughed and said that she "didn't play nicely with bigots". They were instant friends after that, often meeting for lunch or tea during her and Draco's breaks.
"Blood ailments, apparently one of her ancestors was cursed, and it 'pops up every once in a while'." He cleared his throat, finally dragging his eyes away from his young wife, "There's no cure. She's refusing to wait to have children, says she doesn't want me to be alone if she passes." His jaw clicked tightly, holding her amber gaze. She reached out her hand, grasping his tightly, wondering how life could be so unfair to the blonde wizard without a care.
"She's strong Draco, healers can keep her stable through a pregnancy." He snorted in disdain, shaking his head and gripping her hand tightly. He didn't respond for a long time, until the witch in question turned to look at them over her shoulder, obviously knowing that they were talking about her. Excusing herself from her mother-in-law's side, she approached them with a small smile, wrapping a arm around Hermione's waist and a kiss to her cheek before pulling away.
Holding her gaze, Hermione tucked a strand of wavy hair behind her ear, "Do you need anything, love?" she whispered, concern filling her bones for the younger witch. A sigh left her as she looked over to the wizard in the doorway, a sad smile touching her lips for just a moment before looking back to Hermione.
"Not yet, but I'm sure we both will at some point." She responded before leaning into her wizard, whispering something in his ear and bouncing off with a giggle, only to have him following her quickly through her cottage, the tense sadness leaving in moments. They fit so well together that it rang harshly in her mind, how could one find such a perfect match and still be torn apart from one another due to unfortunate circumstances.
His voice at a teasing tilt called out, "Tori, come back here!" as he crossed through one of her thresholds. She caught the curious gaze of Narcissa as she looked between her son's retreating form and where he had come from. Hermione's spine quickly straightened out, wiping the concerned glance and trepidation from her face as she excused herself from the doorway. There was no way to know what had been shared in the Malfoy home and what remained to be unveiled, the distance between Draco and his family had been deep ever since he decided to marry Astoria without their approval.
An insistent tapping of a beak against her front patio window drew her eye as she vanished her teacup, walking towards her front door, lowering the wards carefully as the unfamiliar owl peered up at her from the window ledge. It carried two parcels, a letter held in its beak and a small, carefully wrapped box around it's leg.
"Well hello darling, who might you be?" she muttered, smiling as the tiny owl cooed at the friendly tone, letting her pet its head and gently nuzzling her fingers as she pulled the letter and parcel away from it.
Her brow furrowed, not recognizing the script, that only read her name and address in dark green, nearly black ink. Reaching behind her, she shut the door quietly, before looking out over her property. Her home wasn't known to any outside of those whom were currently inside of it, except for Viktor, but she knew his writing better than most others. This writing was elegant but clearly masculine, where Viktor's was that of a Quidditch players, rough and at times difficult to read if he was rushing to write a letter back to her. She had kept her property secret, at first because letters were non-stop, and then later because the quiet of her property had made her feel safe.
Flipping it over, the seal was simple, again in a nearly black shade of green, with flecks of silver winking out at her, though the actual imprint of it didn't ring any bells for her with the image of a snake wound around the bottom, runes covered the other edges, blurred at some parts and some she just didn't recognize. Sliding her nail beneath the seal, the hum of a magic she didn't recognize floated over her fingertips, she was startled at first and almost dropped the letter, but when it didn't feel dark or harmful, she continued. Pulling the parchment from the envelope, she idly caressed the feathers of the owl who hadn't flown off immediately, instead letting the curly haired witch dote on him as she opened the trifold, eyes scanning its short contents.
"I found you.
I know now how to make clocks bend.
Come back to me." *
She blinked, confusion crossing her gaze, folding the letter back into its envelope before looking at the tiny owl, "Who in the world…?" her brow furrowed, eyeing the small, inconspicuous box, wrapped in matching dark green paper with a silver bow. Her curiosity was peaked, before she could think on it much more, she ran diagnostic charms on the box, but nothing negative came back. Magical, but not deadly, not cursed. Lifting her gaze back to her property, she sighed, questioning her sanity as her nimble fingers tugged on the silver ribbon, carefully unwrapping the box to reveal a silver time turner the size of a silver dollar.
Immediately, her brain went into over drive, and she placed the time turner still in its box onto the perch in alarm. She had destroyed every time turner in the Department of Mysteries, she had even tried to help the time keepers to rebuild them, a longing for her time traveling days itching at her mind after the war was over. Hermione felt a rush of panic and adrenaline wash over her, someone was trying to send her back, would she change the timeline if she decided not to? Who was reaching out to her through time? Lifting the box to her eye level, she could see runic inscriptions on the inside bar of the time turner, with black sand floating without movement between the two sections of the hourglass. It wasn't like the ones she had handled, it wasn't one she had ever seen before, it was something else entirely.
At first, her mind told her to pick up the time turner and go, that there was nothing holding her here, but as she looked back through the window of her cottage, listening to the joyful sounds of her friends and family, she placed the cover of the box back on top of it, knowing she needed to speak with them before she made any rash decisions. She wouldn't disappear now, not when everyone was here, not when she hadn't weighed the possibilities. She needed to know what the runes meant and analyze the numbers through Arithmancy before she did anything. It needed to be an informed decision and something that she completely understood.
For now, she would celebrate Christmas, and decide her path later.
A/N: Well hello darlings!
I've had this plot bunny in my head for a little while now, so I'm hoping people like this. It's not going to be a short story and there will be a lot of points to it, but I think it's going to be great. Leave reviews and tell me what you think!
*This is an adaptation of Erin Van Vuren's poetry, "There is an alternate universe where we will meet again. I will find you there, when I can figure out how to make clocks bend." While it's not a direct quote I want to make sure I give credit to her because it just fits here so well.