Hello my dears!
The reaction to this story has been insane! Insane, and I am so happy that everyone's liked it so much so far! You are all darling, darling humans. This story is going to be a monster, and I have no idea where it'll go in the future, but I'm having so much fun with this so far. Thank you for all of your reviews!
Please leave me a review and let me know what you think ;)
My tumblr: indiebluecrown. tumblr. com
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and only the story line and any OC's belong to me.
For Colubrina xxx
Theo had wanted things to be different, he desperately clung to the notion that somehow everything was going to get better. It hadn't. Things had taken a turn for the worse.
He wasn't sure if it was pity, or some kind of morbid curiosity-but Hermione paid him a visit at least once week after his trial. She was the only one; any friends he had left were on house arrest themselves, or not permitted to visit him.
There was always a gentle look in her eyes, she didn't hate him, she didn't see him as the enemy.
Which made it all the easier, and deep down, to the core of his being, it made it harder too. He knew that the Ministry still had a time turner or two lying around, and he knew that Hermione had one. He wasn't proud that he had peeked in on her floo call a few days ago, as she berated someone about messing something up, and he saw it. It fell free from where she concealed it beneath her blouse, it was right there. It was just too easy.
So why did his chest tighten, and his throat close whenever he thought about stealing it away.
His Great-Grandfather's book didn't help either. Once his family had owned its own time turner, and his great-grandfather was fascinated, obsessed with time.
In Theo's boredom, he spent his days mainly perusing their vast library, the books were his only companions these days. He could escape in them, learn, imagine a place that wasn't as cold and lonely as this one. One where he could be free.
That was when he found it, shoved behind another book, dust covering it. The small, black leather bound book had changed everything. His entire world was tossed upside down, he had a way out. A way to be free from the invisible shackles that kept him confined in this cold, quiet-too quiet-prison.
The scribbles inside were cursive and some notes were almost illegible-most likely due to the urgency in which they were written with. With others, each loop looked as if it had been given incredible attention, every dot was placed with care. The diagrams were intricate, then some drawings looked half-assed and done in haste. Some notes trailed off, never to be picked up again, and some theories and ideas spanned page after page. There was but one page at the end of the thick book that was left blank, with the exception of: This notebook belongs to Thoros Nott II.
Theo thought of his own Father when he was finished devouring the book-he was entranced by its contents, he had barely slept, he had managed to scrounge up a bit of food here and there, he showered when his smell was sour to his own senses; he'd never been so unkempt and out of control of his person in his whole life as he was in those few days. Theodus Nott wasn't an unkind Father, but his Mother's death had hollowed out any feelings in his soul, and he was bitter about every and anything.
Despite all of that, he had been the only family Theo had left, and now he was gone. Gone, gone, gone.
All he needed to fix things now was a time turner, and then Hermione's appeared like fate or whatever other ridiculous notion one wanted to call it. Theo had never believed in fate or any of that nonsense, but he couldn't afford to waste this opportunity.
It was a somber day, the sky was a flat grey, the air was still, yet the cold crept into the house, digging its way into the very fibre of Nott Manor.
The ball of dread in his stomach only seemed to twist itself into knots, and cause him to experience sharp stabs of pain. Theo was going to use the only person who had shown him any kindness in a very, long time. That thought circled around the rest of his errant musings for the entire day until she got there, and only got louder as she poured him a cup of tea, and it screamed shrilly when he reached up and snatched the time turner from around her neck.
He would never forget the surprised look on her face, how her features contorted with confusion and betrayal.
With his Great-Grandfather's book in his robes pocket, he turned the time turner once, and then Hermione was gone.
She was gone, and he had stolen her time turner.
There's no going back, Theo insisted to himself, tossing aside the protesting voice in his head. He was going to go back and fix everything. It was all going to be okay.
How could he had known then, that he couldn't have been more wrong. How could he have known that most of what was to follow would only be misery, pain and suffering, with sprinkles, a dusting of joy and happiness. How could he have known?
"I gave you a time turner?" Hermione asks in disbelief, brow puckered.
Theo looks into the brown eyes that he loves, but he knows to her, he is simply a stranger. The smiling face that he wishes, wishes, he could see once more is gone, and he doubts he shall ever see it again. The one where she looks at him adoringly, with a heart swollen with love.
No. That will never happen again, Theo thinks wistfully, with a wry twist of his lips, and there's no one to blame but himself.
"Yes, Hermione. I got the time turner from you," Theo answers. She doesn't need to know that he stole it from her, plus he didn't lie, he did receive it from Hermione, even if it wasn't given willingly.
"I see-" Hermione purses her lips, "-wait, so you know me in the original timeline you're from?"
"I've known you in many different timelines, Hermione," Theo says softly. Somehow their fates always end up entangled-he can't say it doesn't exist anymore, fate, or at least not with as much conviction as he used to. Too many things have happened, things that make no sense. His entire world has crumbled in front of his eyes on more occasions than he had ever thought possible.
"Many different timelines?" Hermione exclaims, but he sees the look in her eyes, she's eager to hear more about it, but she won't ever say it aloud. Some things will never change, even if the smaller things about her do, the big things seem to remain unchanged. Which only makes it harder each time.
"How old are you, Hermione?" Theo asks, cocking his head to the side, some of his damp bangs falling into his eyes.
"Twenty...why?" Hermione asks, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms over her chest.
Twenty, Theo rolls the number around in his mind, she's younger than he anticipated. He may know a lot about time, but he doesn't know everything, and it's not an exact science.
She looks beautiful as always, her wild, honey brown curls pulled up into a high ponytail, a few wisps escaping and framing her face, warm brown eyes, dusty rose coloured lips. She's slim, but with enough curves for him to dig his fingers into. Theo shakes his head slightly at the thought, he can't think about her like that anymore, he has no right. Short yet slender fingers, with short nails-otherwise they are bothersome-though there was turquoise nail polish on her nails.
She is wearing a navy blue camisole, an oversized white, woollen cardigan and a pair of black shorts that show off her creamy, lovely legs, and her feet are bare.
"Why?" Hermione repeats.
"I was just curious about our age difference in this time," Theo smiles softly.
"Our age-how old are you?" Hermione leans forward, resting her elbows on the kitchen table.
"With all of the time travel I've done-which I think ages you, and the amount of time I've spent in various timelines…" Theo pauses, thinking about it. He'd stopped keeping track a while ago. "Probably almost twenty-six."
"Twenty-six!" Hermione exclaims, looking at him with wide eyes and a perplexed expression. "Just how many timelines have you jumped around in?"
Now that is a difficult question, one he isn't entirely sure how to answer.
Theo pauses, his mouth twisting to the side. "See. I used to think that time was rigid, that no matter what you did, you couldn't change things that much. Since whatever you did, you had already done, and would always end up doing," Theo says softly, carefully studying her.
Hermione raises her eyebrows, as if to communicate that she wishes him to continue his thought.
Theo takes a small intake of breath before continuing, "I was wrong. There are loopholes, gaps, spaces where things disconnect and weave themselves back together constantly. Time is perpetually changing-unravelling and sewing itself back together, in a constant state of motion."
"I found some areas where said loopholes exist," Theo reaches into his robes, pulling out a small, black leather bound book. Surprisingly it is bone dry, and he opens it gently, with care-it is his constant companion, the one thing that never changes. He caresses the pages-yellowed with age-before turning the page; just to feel its texture beneath his fingertips.
"This book originally belonged to my Great-Grandfather, he was fascinated by time...and I discovered it in the Nott library after the War."
Theo smiles almost mockingly then, staring down at the book, closing it, and then he strokes its cover tenderly. "Of course all of my relatives were dead by then, and seeing as I was on house arrest by order of the Ministry...I had some time on my hands. Which is why I began to explore the parts of the library my Father had forbidden me from entering when I was younger."
Hermione isn't sure where she comes into play here, but she remains silent, intently listening. Part of her is curious though, she doesn't recall Theo on the list of prior Death Eaters.
"I had an out," Theo says then, barely a utterance of sound, barely a murmur. As if he's ashamed of what he's done. "I had a way to take it all back. All the horror and pain I had endured...but you can never take it back, not really," Theo laughs harshly.
"What did you do?" Hermione asks, looking at him with such earnest eyes.
"I went back in time and I changed the past. When I returned to the new present, I was free...but-" Theo falters, and his mocking smile twists into a grimace.
"But what?"
"Someone I cared about died instead," Theo says softly.
"Who?" Hermione presses, and Theo sighs heavily. He remembers how hopeless he felt when he discovered the awful truth about what his changes had done. He was free, but one of the only people he cared about was dead as a result.
"Draco Malfoy."