Act I: Childhood

:.People are trapped in history, and history is trapped in them.: James A. Baldwin

In which the rogue believes the cave dark to be ubiquitous, and the gleam to be treasure.

Chapter 3: Change


Hermione concluded she missed something. There seemed to be nothing she could affect in the present. She possessed no connections to the magical world other than Severus, who didn't necessarily provide her with ample room to connect with wizards who may be in more powerful positions in the future. She was, effectively, eleven years old.

She huffed. This couldn't possibly have been the result of six ancient artifacts and three mythic beings.

It was late May. The spring time rainy season was upon the Evans girls, and so they were ensconced up in their room. The rooftops were as grey as the sky was cloudy. Silver lights broke through to shine on a sooty town top.

The smokestack, she thought with some amount of gratitude, was not in direct line of sight from where she was leaning against the reading nook window. She appreciated the blank canvas onto which she could project her thoughts, but found that it wasn't helpful to keep her momentum burning.

She was comfortable enough, seated on round pillows matching the decor of their room. The space didn't lend itself to serious study, but she did not have any access to serious study materials. She sighed, and conceded that at least she was experimenting.

She had to juggle her non magical homework time with Lily quite carefully. In the limited time she had away from Lily, she was able to do her other homework. She had been thinking about the best way for her to get better at wandless magic. She had struggled with trying small things before, and had thus resorted to doing arithmancy equations to discern what may be available for her in terms of magic, mostly as a source of comfort but there were a few promising theoretical developments.

It had begun from something that Severus had mentioned in his slew of explanations to Lily- which had mainly highlighted Dementors, of course. He had mentioned something about people misusing magic, and that the Ministry of Magic had its fingers in other people's business because of it.

She remembered that Harry had used magic as a child, and it was never mentioned in the Wizengamot trial. It would have certainly been brought up for him causing mayhem with a giant snake as an eleven year old. Surely, if they were looking for proof to support their claims they would have- as they had used the incident with his Aunt Marge.

Wandless magic was going to be a necessity. If she was ever in a position where her wand was taken away from her, it could not become a liability. She remembered being helpless under Bellatrix Lestrange, and shuddered. Her mood darkened, but it was difficult for her to remember certain instances. Remembering was like gloss sliding over glass.

Even when the Ministry was guilty of only stupidity and fear, the trials and conflicts Harry had with the ruling body of wizards were due to inconvenience at best, and avoiding superfluously fatalities at worst. Everything mentioned in the trial he had done was only after he was in possession of his wand.

Did that mean that the wand and the wizard had a bond which was then tied to the Ministry?

She never had gotten any warnings when she was practicing her spells before Hogwarts with her newly acquired wand. She was never advised otherwise when she cast spells on the train.

Or did the wand itself produce a signature that the Ministry could read, which would subsequently imply that before one acquired a wand they could perform any kind of magic?

From Hogwarts: A History she understood that there was a quill and book (of which was not well understood). It was widely accepted to be accurate at recording and recognizing underage magic. In the British Isles, at least, there was a universal monitoring system for underage magic- but The Trace's source or how it worked wasn't public knowledge.

Magic, however much used by the twins in secret during summer, had never sparked punitive measures from the Ministry.

With Harry- always. That fiasco with Dobby in second year- The Trace couldn't stem from the child themselves or the Ministry would never had made that mistake.

What kind of magic would Apparition be recorded as? It seemed that some could detect Apparition, but if Ministry officials could pinpoint location with it, then certainly they would have been found much sooner.

Hermione had been thinking if she needed to Apparate anywhere, it would need to be now. She had no resources for knowledge about- well, she having difficulty coming up with specific magical knowledge but she would have to forge all of her connections the moment she got to the entrance of Diagon Alley. That wouldn't happen until late June or July.

Unless she suddenly: mastered wandless magic; was able to control it enough for Apparition; Apparated in the dead of the night; marched on to Hogwarts grounds, and found the only person that she thought might remotely believe her.

Some part of her wanted to just seek an adults help, let someone else continue- She drew a firm line in her head and told herself to pull out of that circle of thought and nudged herself into the task set before her.

She wanted to see what it was she was missing and know for certain what she was doing here and why.

She breathed deeply and let it out slowly. It had also not escaped her notice that it was difficult for her to gather momentum, like she was weighted down by something. Her attention span was well above average for a child her age, but it seemed easy for her to tip into adolescence.

Seeing it start to drizzle outside, she leaned forward and opened the window.

She watched as the cool damp blanketed the air. She sighed, letting the mist kiss her face.

If things were meant to happen, they would happen, despite any of her best efforts or what she intended. Except in the matters that she could alter due to her mere presence in this time and space.

It came to her like water boiling, all at once simmering then bursting into hot air. Replaying the process and where it may have gone wrong. It may have been intention, written into each grain of sand she charmed, or the words she chose. Suddenly it was like she couldn't breathe.

Intention within the confines of her words.

She was specific, certainly, but her intention was to save the outcome of the war, to do whatever it took to protect Harry, to make everything better. She choked as realization dawned on her.

The three Pinnacles, the three Avatars of Moira had taken intent, the frame of her words, not the spell designation but the raw power behind it and placed it to where, in her perceptible world written in the boundaries of her words. By that definition, where she was now made everything better.

In her intent to save Harry, to have him not be sacrificed in vain, she would give up everything so that he would not die in martyrdom. That he would continue to live after so much had been so put upon him.

"That's why," She whispered, muttering "That's why, I'm close -" to his mother. The world focal point shifted because it was in name of … Her throat tightened with waves of emotion, and she sat back down, Harry- "oh- no, no"- not sent back, woven back, re-braided- she was this person now.

She caught herself and realised - time may still continue alternately elsewhere. There's rules- of course there's rules, there's always rules, but those of creation and the discardment of energy and dispositioned space- they can't be broken. She assured herself. She was created as herself for another place, another time that put her where her intentions lay.

She and Lily may be as different as the flowers they were named for, but they were the same in intent of protection for Harry. She was placed here, she was placed for this time because it was the time in which the war began to rise, when the people who defined her world were affected. The Death Eaters were a creeping shadow, Voldemort had declared himself Lord. This is when the War began.

Happenstance was never high on Hermione's list for explaining anything, but there was just a clean sensation soaring through her heart that she just knew. Connections defined by equations but created by the forces that pressed magic into the world and it was matriculating into some kind of sense.

Her fingers itched and she rolled her head back in exasperation- access to the wizarding world could not happen fast enough. Conflicting advice ran through her head. She paused, looking around her.

All she needed was a good opportunity and better use of what she had available to her.

An opportunity...the family was going to go to see a film, The Aristocats, of all things, that was advertised to come out. Lily had begged to see it and of course, their mummy had given in. She had days to test her wandless magic in secret. If she could sneak her purpose past Lily- Lily was naturally using wandless magic. Hermione wasn't used to the flow and ebb of magic streaming lightly through her.

Lily however, didn't have the training on how to manipulate and direct the forces of magic. So, it didn't inhibit the stream of magic that poured out of her everytime she held Hermione's hand.

Wandless magic was difficult for adult wizards to master, but for a child it was more accessible. Hermione remembered her first experience. When she found that she could do some magic it was a secret burning joy- a nightlight under the covers. Her parents hadn't known and she hadn't told them.

To do any large tests- like Apparition, she would need to be completely alone. She chanced a glance over to Lily who had fallen asleep studying her history book. There wasn't any way for her to leave by muggle transportation.

There was … one way. She could pretend to be sick and then could leave, but she was sure that she'd be actually sick by the end of evening.


Hermione suggested to Lily that they should see what they could do together. She thought it would be a fun game to take turns moving things, like levitation. Lily preferred animation.

Hermione was attentive. When Lily held her hand to charm objects, for that is what the result amounted to, Hermione could feel it slip through and around her. When Hermione attempted to copy Lily's charm - the leviosa without leviosa, she struggled. She huffed and gritted her teeth, and tsked after every failed attempt. Lily was exceedingly patient with her, but did keep saying things like 'I don't understand why you can't, just - do it!'

Hermione heaved a heavy sigh and asked Lily "What does that mean- how are you just doing it, what is it that is happening when you're making the decision?"

Lily didn't have much of an answer, but her shrugs were getting more emphatic.

Lily preferred to make flowers bloom and move. She giggled, her hand over her mouth as they hid in various places in the house. Hermione just bit her lip.


On the third day, Hermione, suffering a headache and a burning feeling from being on the verge of tears, was trying to deal with stinging pride and desperation.

It took hours. For a stem to bend.

Lily threw her arms around her neck.

She whispered "Don't worry - it will be fine. You'll eventually get it."

Hermione squeezed her back and let herself cry a little.

Lily said "Maybe we can ask Sev?" Hermione shook her head.

Lily said wistfully, "Oh-" she moved away and plucked at her hands now resting on their knees.

Hermione just said "I want to do this on...on our own. -" She searched for some justification. "Severus has magic books and his mum if he needs help. We're going to go and we're going to have to figure things out by ourselves."

Lily looked nervous suddenly and looked at her hands. "I just think about how beautiful it is and-" she shrugged again. "I don't even know what we may possibly be learning- I mean how can magic ever be like school? Sev said incantations, but he says his mom doesn't say much."

Hermione looked down at their hands- she wanted to perform magic but Lily was talking more about visualisation. She blinked. She wondered…

Her wand had acted as a focus before, a channel. She needed something else as a focus and more strongly intend for something to happen. Her voice, breaking a little in a whisper, "One more time Lily. Help me." Lily furrowed her eyebrows reluctantly but stayed her hand.

Hermione picked up the flower. Lily's magic bumped hers as if a heavier object displaced in the water, allowing it to roll out. Hermione focused past the minor headache and saw the flower open.

Lily squealed and laughed- "You did it!"

Hermione let out a breath she didn't know she was holding and smiled a little at the shy blossom opening.

She resolved to take a nap and try again later when Lily was sleeping. Her sister was starting to become distressed with her sisters obvious stress.


Hermione reached for the flower in the glass of water by her bed when the moon lit her room in a bright enough dim for her to see by. Lily was breathing softly in the other bed, fast asleep.

Focusing an image of visualisation perfectly of the flower closing she then reached for that familiar intent that came with her wand. She also allowed the love and joy of Lily's giggles, her pleasure at seeing her sister do the same trick to fill her mind.

The ease with which she used her wand swept in, but she pushed past it. It was like reaching into a hole and looking for water- she began to feel unbalanced as if she over extended herself with nothing there and she tensed up. She breathed and allowed herself to drop.

What happened next was something that she would only later be able to rationalise as the difference of turning on the tap water and pumping water from a well.

The flower closed. She smiled.

Immediately drained, she was just able to place the flower back on her bedside before falling asleep.


A bright clear day dawned on Lily, Hermione and Petunia baking in the kitchen with their Mummy. The day couldn't get much better, as perfectly charming Saturdays went. It was their parents anniversary, and the couple would be going away for the evening to a romantic dinner and show that their Da had sworn them into secrecy about. He had asked their opinion on what kind of show their mother would have liked and the three girls were once more, united in cahoots for this day.

The refound camaraderie was made all the more exciting when they were told they would be left alone with Petunia for the evening. Petunia was old enough now to watch over all of them and this summer was going to be free from babysitters.

They were experimenting with macaroons, lemon meringue and eclairs, and were planning on passing them out to friendly neighbors and some of their friend's houses. It was quite a majestic feat, Hermione thought as she watched their Mummy instruct her daughters with expert precision and a wondrous intuition regarding the recipes. Their Da had gone out for a leisurely stroll and had come back with a riotous bouquet of Penelope's, pink and white Petunias, Star Lilies and Hermione Roses. The basket pot was huge and was received with many ooh's and ahhs' from his girls.

They had a light brunch since much of the morning had been spent sampling from the baked goods. It was then the small box, which they had added their names on, appeared in their Da's hand.

After a great exclamation of joy from their Mummy the girls were excused from cleaning duty and sent to the park. Hermione and Lily practically skipped all the way there. She smiled with a secretive adult edge to her amusement as to why they were so cheerfully dismissed.

Petunia was finally hanging out with them. It had been some time, after the Snape upset and that one unfortunate incident. To be fair, Lily and Hermione had been minding their own business when that foul girl came in.

Once again they took turns pushing each other on the swings. It had continued on genially, the three sisters giggling often and talking as friends. Hermione was so pleased that Lily and Petunia seemed to be getting along that she had hardly thought of anything else.

It was almost time for a late lunch when a question made by Lily switched the carefree mood.

"I wonder if they have swings at Hogwarts or if wizards and witches entertain themselves differently."

Petunia ceased to push Lily. "That Snape boy has been telling lies." Petunia grabbed both of the chains on their swings. She continued, hissing, "He's creepy, and nasty and Hogwarts doesn't exist. Stop filling your head with fool thoughts."

Lily pressed her lips together and looked extremely disappointed. Hermione looked at Petunia and realized that she had let her eldest sister fester out of a concern for the larger picture and appearing as a child.

Hermione realized Petunia wasn't going to let the twins have this wonderful dream if it meant she couldn't have it as well. She was still young and very much in love with the dreams that her parents had raised her on. It was a harsh choice of reality that Petunia was faced with.

Hermione didn't know what to do. She felt a little stupid. She had been spending all her time learning strategies of war, influence, and economic finance when she should have been reading about the psychology of children.

Petunia continued, encouraged by the doleful looks "And you better stop using your weird little tricks on my friends! Amber couldn't speak right for three days. Kept saying everything backwards till she was sent to a specialty speech therapist!"

Hermione had the unnerving feeling that she felt someone near her. Suddenly, Snape had materialized out of the shrubbery on the incline that he had been watching them from. It was their usual meeting place before they went to hang out near the thicket. He was next to them instantly, his overcoat on, making him appear especially odd and out of place.

"You think you can tell them what they can and can't do." Severus appeared like a little dark cloud, and his voice was quick and acidic. Hermione noticed that it distinctly lacked the measure and performance quality of adult Snape. It still had the rough Spinners End lilt but it still cut well.

Petunia turned her nose up at him and said, "Rough, low town lowlives shouldn't go sneaking up on people." Petunia, turned tail and ran before he could retaliate or Hermione could think to say anything at all. Lily looked at Hermione with wounded eyes.

Hermione saw Harry's saddened eyes, hurt by the world and by the hurt of others. She couldn't immediately comfort Lily and tell her with absolute confidence that they really were going to get to go to Hogwarts and that Severus was telling the truth.

Severus skulked up to Lily, but she got up off the swings despondently and headed to their grove, passing by Severus. He watched her greedily as Petunia ran off and Lily, defeated, went to their spot.

Hermione was irritated with Severus. Severus looked at Hermione who, jumped up from her swing and said "Severus, it is ridiculous that you spy on us- you need to come up and talk to us like proper people."

She could see his body tense through the heavy overcoat. Severus, said caustically "Your muggle sister doesn't seem to think so."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him and stomped off after Lily, tossing back out, "That doesn't matter, does it?"

The boy ducked his down his head and sidled up to her, his eyes fierce. "Muggles don't understand- us, magic. They don't accept what we are."

Hermione stopped and looked at him. He stepped a few feet forward and turned to her, his black eyes dark, eyebrows drawn. The vision of the man that he was later in his life drifted in front of her, draped in black, resisting sunlight.

Hermione, a challenge bit between her lips, stayed silent. She passed him towards where Lily was heading down to the thicket. She picked her way through the plants and trees and rocks and things, and sat down next to her sister.

Severus chose the seat on the other side of Lily. They sat for a while listening to the sound of the water and the small amount of wildlife. The dappled green of the trees provided a quiet kind of comfort.

Severus broke the silence "If you're worried about your sister being upset with you, don't be. You don't have to listen to her, only other witches and wizards."

Lily said in a high kind of melancholic voice, "We did do magic, though. Aren't there rules for that kind of thing? Who is in charge of wizards?"

Severus took off his overcoat, as he settled in, revealing the smock he had always worn. He went into a more detailed explanation of the Ministry of Magic.

Lily, suddenly worried, said, "But we've used magic,"

Hermione crossed her arms and looked at Severus, "Yes, but they won't put children in Azkaban- a prison- for using underage magic."

He nodded importantly, "You go on careful like once they start training you with your wands."

Lily picked up a twig, and Hermione receded into her thoughts once again for wandless magic. She was brought back out by the way that Snape admired Lily's red cascading hair as she waved the twig around.

Lily suddenly twisted around to him and looked at him intensely. "Are you sure it's real? All of it? Hogwarts- it's not a joke? Petunia said you're lying and there isn't a Hogwarts. It is real, isn't it?"

He was fervent, "It's real for us. We'll get our letters."

Lily whispered, relief on her face "Really?"

"Definitely." Severus was brimming with confidence, and Hermione was struck with the same sensation that Harry had tried to express to her in the memory he had witnessed. That though he was so terribly unkempt he managed to impress a gravity of the future.

Excited once more, Lily inquired "Will it really come by owl?"

"Normally, but you're both Muggleborn," Severus explained patiently, "So, someone from the school will have to come to explain to your parents."

"Does it make a difference, being Muggleborn?" Lily asked cautiously, and Hermione noticed that he hesitated. She watched him closely. He had to know. There had to have been something that he heard in his mother's voice, in the lines of the books or- something was causing conflict.

It was clear in some books that they spoke of the disadvantages of Muggleborns but nothing in the books that she had read in her time that were commonly issued had grand prejudice against muggleborns. They certainly weren't mentioned as often, but she had thought that was a connectivity issue.

Severus said, "No, it doesn't make any difference."

"Good," Lily said, relaxing visibly. Hermione hadn't known Lily was that concerned about it, but she supposed it was because Hermione had lost her original sense of trepidation and never had it to the extent that Lily would. In the Granger family it was always understood that one worked towards things that weren't directly gifted to them and worked to keep them. It was another distinction between her and Lily that she hadn't managed to impress upon her twin.

Severus said, "You've got loads of magic, I saw that. All that time I was watching you." Hermione thought that it was interesting, that that was the defense he gave to himself for whatever was causing the turmoil.

Hermione stopped herself from asking if he thought that in general muggle borns had inferior magic, and where he had understood that from.

Lily, her eyes still rather distant, asked Severus, "How are things at home?"

Severus looked away, glumly, his jaw tightening a crease appearing between his eyes. She was trying to make a connection with Severus' unhappiness at his house with their own tense situation.

"Fine."

Hermione doubted that.

So did Lily, as she clarified. "They're not arguing anymore?"

Hermione privately thought that she wouldn't call it arguing.

"Oh yes, they're arguing. It won't be long before I'm gone." Severus said darkly.

Hermione had looked into the laws regarding child abuse, but it wouldn't do for someone with Severus disposition and abilities to be placed with a Muggle family in foster care. She didn't think that his mother would have allowed it besides, and she didn't have any access to wizarding laws about removing children from their abusive parents.

The laws currently had just gotten to the point where there was some form of such protections in each authority- but the committee was far off, ineffective, and there was nothing that could be done to launch an investigation. She would look into it later, but she would have to convince Severus first to agree.

Lily thinking of their Da who was always so pleasantly surprised when he could hear what they could do, asked, "Doesn't your Dad like magic?"

"He doesn't like anything much."

Lily was quiet, and Hermione remained silent. She would not pity this boy, she thought firmly. Severus Snape would not appreciate it, and pity would do nothing to change the circumstances.

"Severus?" Lily asked, attempting to change the subject.

Severus mouth twisted in a small smile, "Yeah?"

"Tell me about Dementors again." Hermione and Lily both knew that the dark creatures had fascinated Severus and he was particularly fond of spooking the girls with them.

He was kind though, and knew how much it had at first bothered Lily.

So, he asked pointedly "What d'you want to know about them for?"

Hermione thought that she felt eyes on her and looked sharply around for movement, she saw shadows move as if something was coming up behind them. She whipped around and stood, Petunia lost her footing and stumbled into the clearing where they were sprawled out.

"Tuney!" Lily cried happily, but Severus jumped up with Hermione and shouted "Who's spying now! What do you want?"

Alarmed and gasping Petunia lit upon Severus uncovered shirt and said just to be cruel "What is it that you're wearing anyway? Your mum's blouse?"

There was a sharp crack and Hermione felt the branch of the low hanging tree fall. Before she could think wingardium leviosa it struck Petunia and her blue eyes welled up in tears and she ran off.

Lily glared at Severus accusingly with her mouth open in disbelief. Hermione jumped in, "Even if he did it Lily, it wasn't his fault. It's just emotions."

Lily looked at her and said meaningfully, "'Tuney's gotten hurt." Hermione cast a glance at him. He looked at a loss, but his body language was still tense, still angry.

Hermione held out her hand and said to Lily, "Let's go after her and see if we can help her. She was probably getting us for lunch." They ran off in the thicket and left Severus behind them.


Petunia had been coming to fetch them for lunch, they found her crying at a bus stop, and she shrieked at them to leave her alone. Lily pleaded with her. "Severus didn't mean to do it, 'Tuney! He was just upset!"

"When I'm upset things don't go exploding into people's faces and cracking their heads open." Petunia was being a little dramatic, but Hermione understood. It was terrifying to be so powerless, but Hermione didn't know how to say that it didn't matter, wizards were scared of other wizards too. Wincing, she didn't think that would help. All she needed to do was to show their sister they wanted to help her, that they could be good to her.

Hermione blurted, "But maybe we can heal you 'Tuney." Petunia jumped away.

"Don't you touch me!"

Hermione decided she would see if she couldn't heal her whilst she was sleeping, but Petunia was slowly drifting further away the more Hermione tried to hold on.

Hermione tried to be as comforting as possible "Petunia, just because you don't have magical gifts doesn't mean that we can't help your life become more magical. You don't have to cut us off, shut us out."

Petunia, rubbed her eyes. Her voice clogged up with the tightness of her voice as she yelled at them "You think you're so special, so wonderful that you can just be around and make everything perfect and lovely and gifted? Well you can't! You're abnormal, not extraordinary! Leave me alone!"

Their evening of fun and games with their sisters came to an abrupt end and drawn out close. The twins spent the evening subdued and Hermione thought once more about the small changes that rippled out to the unseen and unknown.


Spring heated into summer, and the girls spent most of their schooless days with different friends. Their parents were at work during the days so they were stuck with Petunia alternately bossing them around to do chores and ignoring them completely.

Once more, Hermione was trying to think. She had rejoiced when success first fluttered her heart, but she had immediately chastised herself. Wandless magic was a small and necessary victory and she must think of the next step.

A hand waved in front of her face. Hermione startled back, squeaking. So much for her warforged reflexes.

Lily popped into view, giggling. "'Mione, you've been sighin' all day. It's giving me the jitters."

Hermione, her tone forcibly light, said, "Sorry, I've been thinking."

Lily said wistfully "Oh, I so wish Petunia would come roller bootin' with us." Her twin was under the impression that she shared in the heaviest of emotional burdens regarding their sister.

Petunia had been more evasive than bossy as of late. Their mummy said that she was getting 'older.'

Her entirely distant relationship with her sisters was explained away as natural by Mr. and Mrs. Evans. Especially after the incident with Severus. It seemed, the more that they were with 'the Snape boy', the more Petunia soured.

Hermione and Lily had been more friendly to some of the girls at their school- more or less because of Lily. It also helped that Hermione had become distinctly more confident since the week of their birthday, in small ways, nothing too abnormal for an eleven year old. She did not have much time to waste and was not going to spend any of it being shy, which in some cases Lily was guilty of.

"I'm sorry, what?" Hermione didn't understand at first. Lily tilted her head and looked at Hermione disapprovingly.

"I said-"

"That you wished Petunia would er- hang with us more or go roller-" Hermione tsked at the term. "I mean, rollerbootin' with us."

Lily sighed, "Yes, something's been phoney recently, can't you tell? She used to be so nice to us and now… well,"

Lily looked over at the window they had facing the street out in front. Petunia was walking up the street with a girl whose brown hair was styled in a terrible full feathered pouf that ate most of her forehead. Petunias blonde hair was curled up on either side like a silly butterfly and both girls were walking with welly's and clear umbrellas.

Petunia and Amber had just come from the house of a new friend, whom Petunia met at the uptown school. They had gotten their hair done by one another in the most fashionable styles.

"Well, of course." Hermione said.

Lily looked back at Hermione. Hermione who had traded her notebook, surreptitiously putting it under her and then stuck her nose back into her borrowed books, one of their Father's books 'Having Influence and Where to Place it'.

Lily crossed her arms on top Hermione's knees and put her chin in her hands. "It's more than the branch. If we try again to be friends, maybe-"

Feeling the familiar bright green eyes on her, quite puppyish, Hermione glanced up at her and said, "Absolutely not."

Lily pleaded. "Jus' for a little while."

Hermione turned the page back to where it explained risk analysis process because her sisters beggaring desire was so absurd it made her lose track. "No! I dislike how much effort it takes to be groovy around Amber- she's such a... laker."

Lily who looked like she was holding in giggles. Hermione couldn't help but snicker as she watched Lily's cheeks grow big with holding in laughter. Lily knew that Hermione was largely against slang, and Lily used it in excess to prod her into silliness. That the 'prim rose' would be so acidic in the slang she used was just the burst of humor to blow the torpor of sighs away.

They burst out laughing, knowing exactly why Amber hated entering the house of the "Freaky deaky sisters of Petunia." Accidental magic guilt aside for a particularly sneering comment made by Amber, the giggle fest covered up some of the hurt they felt at their big sisters reticence.

Hermione would have to find some way to woo Petunia over if she wanted to save her from the dreadful rejection of anything that wasn't normal.

The laughter trailed off and Hermione put her book away, seeing the wistful look come across Lily's face again.

"Let's go and see if we can't ring up Emily and Regina?" Hermione offered. It was easy to let Lily take the lead in conversations and the games that they played with their muggle girl friends. Besides, she quite liked them. Lily decided it was a fine idea, but it was left unsaid that they would have rather had their oldest sister with them once more.


The tension between Petunia and the twins continued. They found their things thrown away if it was left out. Petunia immediately would tattle to tell their Mummy that the girls hadn't cleaned something or done a chore. She was catty, but if any of them had mentioned the incident of the falling branch to their parents, their parents hadn't indicated anything of the kind.

Hermione was getting more and more anxious as the time in which their letter was supposed to arrive approached. She had begun her research on psychology, which hadn't done much in helping her anxiety. She considered it a soft science. She nibbled on the tip of her pen as she stared down at the girls Flower Power journal she was writing in, sitting in her regular reading window in her bedroom.

She would watch Severus display certain signs of trouble at home in playing with Lily, and certain social skills that were absent. It was with some amount of possessiveness that he treated Lily, and he would be snappish if confronted with something personal by either of them.

The advice she found was to practice listening while reserving judgment, to being understanding of conflicting emotions. His desperate desire to avoid attention and gain it tore him back and forth often until the point that he would get upset with himself and take it out on them.

She wasn't sure she was gifted at applying anything she found on child psychology. She tapped the pen against her teeth and gave up for now.

She was developing the Arithmancy equations that seemed promising and was now layering in possible rune combinations. A timeline with possible ways to get to Diagon Alley and access resources was on the other page. The list of things she needed to do took up a good portion of the first half of the notebook, the list of things she could start at Hogwarts highlighted.

She also had a page that kept track of her theories with The Trace but that hadn't been added to in days.

It was worrisome, because she felt as if she could direct affairs, yet she still didn't have all the pieces to her puzzle to be confident in doing so. Affecting time in such a way was dangerous. Teetering on the edge of action and inaction, she held herself back in most circumstances where she would have attracted attention with her most natural action. She justified any domino effects by her understanding that just by being here she altered outcomes and so she would not rely too heavily on this reasoning.

She found herself debating how much of things were nature and happenstance as she plotted out different scenarios.


She placed a seed into her elder sister's mind the day of the cinema. Hermione alluded to having a headache, but she made sure Petunia know she still wanted to go to the theatre. It was all Petunia had to do to suggest that Hermione stay home, if she was in the same mind set that Hermione predicted she'd be in.

At first she felt guilt claw around in her belly, but she reminded herself that she was a grown witch with a purpose, and had certain tasks to complete under duress. Like the fact she had a growing list of tasks, ideas, and things to research and no-where to begin. She reasoned that if she knew that Petunia was going to tell their mum out of either childish jealousy or an elder sisters concern it wasn't really like she was manipulating her terribly.

It wasn't until almost the very last five minutes where everyone was putting on their shoes and gathering things to place into their purses that she backed out of going, and told her Mum that she didn't want to disappoint the other girls with depriving them of their time with Mum and Da but she should go to sleep because she wasn't feeling very well. Petunia assisted as expected, telling them Hermione really did have a headache.

Hermione tilted her head down, allowing her auburn curls to cover her face. She feigned a despondent complacency while her heart was beat loud enough for her to think that it could be detected. She hoped that she was convincing enough. She forced her hands apart from each other so they could be limp.

For her lies, she received a kiss on the head and she sighed in relief, breathing in the comfort of the light floral scent her mummy left. Her mum bid her to feel better and followed her Da and her sisters out.

She waited anxiously until her family had left the front of their house, watching from her window. Lily turned up to her and waved sadly in the sunset. Lily had been excited because kitties were cute and a whole movie about cats seemed to be just the grooviest.

Guilt seeped into her again. This is exactly what Dumbledore had done. Had excused himself of doing. The same exact rationale. He had manipulated people, betraying them by hiding the truth, and now she was doing the same.

She placed her hand to her mouth and felt her heart drop.

They were walking to the nearest stop to the train that would take them directly into West Down where the movie theatre was located. She watched them go, and wavered amidst conflict within her. She hadn't written or gone to Dumbledore because ultimately she felt he had made the wrong decisions by manipulating people.

Hermione closed her eyes and shook her head. She didn't want to slip down that slope. She promised herself she would think much more carefully about casually manipulating people like that.

She opened her eyes, looking at the small reflection in the window pane she felt as if she could see Harry looking back at her. She'd avoid it, like the plague.

She got up stood on her side of the room and then shook everything else off. She had reasoned against attempting Apparition. It was too dangerous if she had splinched herself.

Gathering her notebook, a pen that wasn't exceedingly weak if she pressed too hard or wrote too fast, some muggle money, she placed them all in a book bag. She put her longest dress with the droopiest waist and her mummys cardigan on. And, thinking of all the old women she had seen, pinned a costume jewel to the cardigan.

The second part of her plan was where she would have some trouble. After all, wands were used in abundance for a reason. It took much energy and a good deal of concentration to do transfiguration and charms without a wand.

Hermione had never been too interested in the lowest hanging fruit, and fully appreciated that sometimes the easiest answer was hard won by discarding many other perceptions and ideas.

Ancient Runes and Arithmancy drew her in for a reason- because it was magic that you could create a focus for, completely specialized. A spell formula within a rune, designed by Arithmancy. She thudded down the stairs excitedly, armed with the chalk her mummy had got them to decorate the sidewalk with.

If she got the chalk wet she could write on the kitchen tile, and she happily recalled the runes that named shape in transfiguration. Drawing the Arithmancy table was easy enough for her and ordering things such as they were was quite literally simple math.

She called up that magic at the bottom of the well and felt it stream out into the runes she drew steadily. Not as readily as she had hoped but she felt it working and tried to push more in magic.

She thought that this was one of her most clever ideas because it was utterly simple. At least something productive had come out of her sitting alone with her thoughts with little to no access to supplies or information. Finished with her work, sweating a little, attempting to suppress her excitement, working up the courage to master the disappointment and fear of failure, she got up and turned to her mum's ingredients.

She dug into the flour, baking soda and poured some water into a small ingredient bowl.

Things had magic in them because they were used with intent. Potions worked, not because you placed a large quantity of items imbued with magic together and they reacted like chemical components, but also and primarily because the brewer released the magic and distilled it into something with purpose. Like having a key to unlocking pipes to allow basically a magical tea to flow forth.

Using potions without magical ingredients was nearly impossible; she could hardly be expected to embody, energize and keep essences pure while laying complex patterns and connections over them over an extended period of time to allow for saturation without becoming drained and exhausted. Using transmutation without magical supplements was much simpler than potions. Which is what she would be doing now. A primitive form of alchemy to create a simple illusion.

In her head, runes were pipes created magically to imitate patterns of magic. The non- magical ingredients merely water compared to magical tea, but Hermione would use her own force of magic and will to make it tea. She would not unlock the magic of the ingredients but use her own magic.

It followed certain logical patterns in unlocking potential and equitable energy by design, but it was just another form of science just like potions and Arithmancy.

Dropping the chalk into her bag she stood in the middle of the Transmutation circle and then clearly articulated an incantation, closing her eyes, envisioning exactly what she wanted.

Her previous mental exercises assisted her in holding the images, the concepts, to hold in her head as she dusted the flour around the runes and then tossed the water up into the air, snapping the baking powder in the four directions.

The water stilled like raindrops, suspended motes of dust like stars in her space. The baking soda burst in little bright white lights like stars in galaxies. Coalescing over her in a cloudy layer it transformed her face and covered her in a short lived glamour.

A cloud of illusion, as written in the runes, dusting over her as she intended them to with her own push of magic and incantation. Activating the magic she stored in the runes to flow through. She felt the wells of stored energy rush out of her and panted in exertion. Her head was starting to hurt and she felt drained.

She checked her face in the hallway mirror, appearing as a very old woman. It was easiest to disguise herself as she would be in 100 years, with the finest web of wrinkles on even the smoothest part of her cheeks and around her eyes, switching to a much duller hazel, hair no longer auburn, but a silvery grey. She tilted her head back and forth, looking to see how familiar she would look. She beamed at her self and looked the very picture of a tiny little old woman wanting to give out pies to children.

Satisfied, though her limbs were heavy and she was a little shaky, she rallied. She wiped away the mess she made in the kitchen. A little nervous, she set her jaw in determination, and headed out the door.

Regaining some of that fervor she had possessed when she set out to fix things, and she gathered the cracking energy around her. Apparition into Diagon Alley was risky, it would end poorly if she was off, and even if she was recovered, the glamour of the old woman would wear off and she would have many more questions to answer.

Hermione closed her eyes, the look of broken grief on Harry's face raising unbidden in the face of her doubts and fear, blank and pale Ron, the look on Draco's face when he decided to fight back- with her, of all people.

Hailing the Knight Bus, however, was a simple matter. She released the energy with all the intent of needing it's help and hailing a way to leave- to escape.

It popped into existence and screeched to a halt. The door popped open and a very old man with hair coming out of his ears and nose looked at her. His eyes were quite sharp and they looked at her- and he gave a big grin. He was missing quite a few teeth.

She gulped.

A woman, dressed in a blue overcoat and long pant skirts swung around the pole of the bus's entrance. She had a frizzy lopsided bun on her head. "Seven sickles-" The woman held out her hand looking down at the frumpy bundle of clothes before her.

Hermione's voice was small, and wavered, "Is muggle money alright- I am sure I can exchange it at Gringotts-"

The woman huffed, clearly put out "That's not how this works, lady-"

Hermione felt her heart pop, and deflated.

The old man cackled from the bus drivers seat and blasted the horn cutting off the woman who looked exasperated,"Shut it, Leona- get on in here, you. Three extra sickles for interest and definitely sickles for the way back, my little lady."

Hermione didn't want to get on board with Leona who had her arms crossed and her mouth agape standing at the top.

The old man put his hand on the gears and said "We're the Knight Bus! Are you coming or not?"

Hermione staggered up, almost stepping on her dress and the bus lurched forward. Leona caught her arm before she slammed into the wall. Hermione looked up, and Leona looked as if she was resigned.

"This way. Where's your stop?"

"Leaky Cauldron."

After a no less disorienting ride, they arrived to The Leaky Cauldron. Three hundred years it stood unchanged, even through the great London Fire.

As she appeared on the step she gave a great sigh of relief, and smiled as she hunched a little and shuffled into the Tavern. Finding someone who was going into the alley shouldn't be any problem at all if she just went in behind someone.


She had a very limited time frame. To make things more difficult, it seemed that things were not as untouched by time as she originally had thought. Diagon Alley was strange in the twilight, few witches and wizards were milling about. There were some shops that were oddly archaic. One of the shops advertised Remnants of protective spell charms, sneak-o-scopes, foe glasses, protego glasses: 'Good for two curses!'

Some spared her a glance, for she certainly may have looked unfamiliar, but she did her best to avoid detection. She looked curiously at the joke shop that inhabited the corner where the Weasley Wizarding Wheezes had stood since she last had seen it.

Some of the shops had closed early, she thought, for the evening wasn't truly lost to darkness.

A group of well dressed wizards in darker colors stomped by. Together, distinctly. They were speaking in rapid and harsh undertones. They spent too long looking at her, she thought with a little jolt of fear. When they passed, their narrowed eyes upon her still she checked in the glass of a window. She checked herself and looked to see if the reflection was distorting her features or if it was the spell- until a shop keep from the window selling utensils for both potions and domestic bottles came to see if she was window browsing or window shopping.

"Straight to Gringotts", she told herself in a mantra. She didn't have time if her old person glamour was fading already. She passed the grandiose lopsided doors and shuddered. The last time she entered Gringotts, it was under the pretense that she was a psychotic sycophant.

She passed the threshold, praying there would be no security present in this time that wasn't in her original time period.

Pretending to be a little old woman who just wanted to exchange the money from her saved up allowances was much easier than the job of portraying Bellatrix.

It was such a shame she wasn't better at pretending to be a psychotic bitch from hell, she thought. Her acting skills needed improvement, but being an older version of herself seemed doable.

She withstood the suspicious gaze of the goblin who examined her muggle money for far too long. While he was inspecting it, she gathered herself to ask a question.

"Erm, excuse me, sir goblin." The goblins black eyes narrowed, his long nose not as sharp as some of the other goblins she had ever met but he made it appear so with the look he awarded her.

"Yes, madam witch?" She feared suddenly that she may have offended him. His suit swelled as he took in breath.

She stumbled "I'm sorry, I don't know your name-" He looked at her measuringly and said nothing.

"If possible, how would I open an account? I mean- a vault."

He procured papers and a deadly looking pen. Then he lowered the paperwork and the pen down on a tray from his height down to hers. The papers seemed to have a good deal of stipulations and outlines under calligraphed 'security' , 'protocol' - it was odd, she noted. That there was no requirement for a fee for the vault that she could see in a quick perusal.

Hesitant for signing without reading everything beforehand, but too nervous to waste time reading through something she was sure her muggle parents did she meekly asked,

"Would I have the ability to renegotiate contracts?"

The Goblin, his mouth twisted into a fangy smile said "Yes, if you wish the security of your vault updated. Currently, you have nothing of value and must deposit something into the vault."

She blinked and scrambling unpinned her Mums costume jewelry. The goblin peered at it and as soon as she held it up he snatched it and looked at it in the light.

She noted that it was a temporary vault of the lowest security, and came with a key but was open to re-negotiation every year dependent on deposits. She looked up at the goblin who was now looking at the costume jewel under a microscope and pulled her pen out of her bag.

Her hand was shaking a bit from adrenaline and signed her name Hermione Rose Evans and initialed.

The paper she passed back up and said, "If I could please have the galleons…?" He seemed to take extra pleasure stamping with a great bang on the paper before slowly counting the money.

When he handed over the galleons and the key she resisted the sigh of relief. She plucked up her nerve to ask one more question.

"I do apologise, but I just wanted to know if… well if I procured gold, would you purchase it?"

The goblin leaned down, "I do not see how you would have gold to sell to us, as our gold is mined from deposits that no wizard has had stake in for the past two hundred and six years."

Hermione blinked. Doing a quick mental calculation of what had happened two centuries ago. History of Magic was a class that had always been written off, for the love of Hufflepuff, a bonafide Ghost taught it. There was a distinct lack of historical application, she thought disapprovingly, and she felt like there should be more of a focus on the goblins side of the story. Clearly, the goblin rebellions of 1764 wasn't just about the right to hold a wand.

"I see… well, hypothetically speaking. If I did have gold... would it be possible for you to buy it?"

The Goblin looked at her with the utmost suspicion. Getting nervous she blurted, thinking to find him later, "What is your name?"

The goblin thought, with his eyes a flinty black "I am Thistlepit. I will have your answer when you come to Gringotts next." She attempted to smile, but his expression did not change and so she scuttled out of there, heading to the next order of business: the bookshop. She could not be happier to leave the bank.

Hopefully they would have back copies of the Daily Prophet, where she could gather information and see what was going on in this day and age. There were only mentions of the fact that Voldemort was gathering power. She didn't have time to keep her ear to the ground for specific information and to begin to build a relationship with informants.

Largely, the books she had access to as a sixth year student glossed over the involvement of people who weren't directly associated with the Ministry. Information was not as forthcoming since there were still so many Aurors that would not reveal the information and the impossibility of revealing information through those who were already dead.

The Daily Prophet should have a list of deaths or suspects that would point her in the right direction of what kind of tactics Voldemort and his ilk were taking, what spells they were using. To track their power and whether or not the curses that they used varied in knowledge or power.

She went to Flourish and Blotts, pleased to see that it was still a lovely and welcoming sight despite her dark thoughts. The deep blue borders of the bookshop and the white shutters squeezing outward, as if the books within were expanding the space outwards, pushing out with the mass of their ideas, made her feel nice.

She climbed the steps with a spring in her step. She entered the store with a smile and met the face of a young man minding the counter, looking up from reading a book as someone entered.

He smiled back, a dreamy sort of expression on his face, with dark eyes framed with thick lashes, he looked thoughtful and kind. "Hello, is there anything I can assist you with Madam?"

Hermione was cheerful as she responded, "Yes! If you could direct me to your issues of the Daily prophet I would appreciate it very much... and perhaps if you have any back issues?"

He sat up straight and cocked his head curiously, it made him look very young. Realizing his bewilderment may be due to her youthful voice she cleared her throat and prepared to sound much more flemmy.

He pointed to the back door, "I think I may have some back issues of the Prophet on hand. Let me check the back."

"Oh, thank you," She corrected her clear voice and made it decidedly more creaky, "Er- young man!" She winced, that surely didn't sound right.

"I'll be right back." He said disappearing behind a stack of books that looked like they were piled up aberrantly due to little or no space for holds. Hermione put her hands together over the little bag she brought for her book and took a look around.

She had just let her fingers find a book, quite thin for a lexicon, but with a proud and bold cover of brown leather and gold script, 'Ancient and Fabulous Books, and the Libraries that House them', when a older gentleman came into the store, announced by the tinkle at the front door.

Hermione jumped and turned, her hand held up and the book clutched protectively to her chest.

The man noticed her reaction with a twinkle. He had thick black hair with silver run through it, cut short and worn combed back. From the strands coming loose he didn't appear to care much for perfection though he carried himself with nobility and elegance. He was wearing a deep blue robe, almost black, in the early Edwardian style with a longer train than most wizards would have worn.

"My sincerest apologies my good woman, I did not mean to startle you." His voice was congenial, words artfully pronounced.

She huffed and said, "Not at all, I simply-"

She changed her voice in an attempt to be older and thought of the stodgiest thing to say "- am just too old for such interruptions in my reading."

He threw his head back and giving a distinctive sharp shout of laughter came towards her. He presented his hand. Hermione realized that perhaps she may have been trying too hard to be old. She absolutely needed to get better at acting if disguise was going to become a regular part of her activities in the future.

His silver eyes were crinkled above his complex, yet trim facial hair; his muttonchops, shaved mustache and goatee, were separated by two shaved lines that perfectly accented his sharp cheekbones and deep smile lines. He was grinning at her as she debated taking his hand.

Dazed, and a little overwhelmed, she took his hand, but instead of shaking it he bent down and raised it to his lips.

Hovering barely above, he did not make skin contact but relinquished her hand and said, "Pleasure m'lady,"

Before he could finish his introductions, the young man returned from the back of the store. He hauled quite a few newspapers in his arms and carefully maneuvered around the stacks. His workers robes were tied around his forearms tightly, and the light green color of the cloth wrapped around his torso was secured with an overly large white belt. It was such a retro and oddly attractive outfit on the lithe book attendant, so different from the classic wealth the older gentleman possessed.

The older gentleman had released her hand and moved to a better position, in case he was needed for assistance to place the newspapers upon the counter.

"Careful there," she said, seeing his light green robes get dangerously close to the stack of books held in place by a charm.

He smiled as he placed them on the counter. "These are just all the old issues that were sent to the shop that Mr. Flatley keeps until I get fed up with them and throw them away …" Hermione began to open her purse. "Oh, I won't charge you for them, Madam, they're the shops issues, and we've read them already- like I said, throwing them away seems like a waste."

Hermione looked up and smiled, "Why, thank you so much. I do so appreciate it."

She checked the clock hanging on the wall. It had been almost an hour. She had only a few minutes to get back and hail the Knight Bus. But she didn't think about the heaviness of the newspaper, and the multitude of them. She looked back at the papers, pondering, forgetting entirely that the gentleman was still there.

The gentleman leaned on the counter casually and asked, "Now, it is an interesting thing to come to the bookstore for. Prithee, Madam, what are you looking for in the past of the Daily Prophet? Surely you have not been so ensorcelled in your reading."

Hermione thought that it may be wiser to stick with her decision of being stodgy, "There you are mistaken- good sir. I have been so ensorcelled in my reading that I feel as if I have travelled very far into the future and found I have landed myself into the past. I wish to know more of the goings on of the world." When in doubt, lie with the truth, she recalled.

The silvered wizard smiled crookedly, placing his hand on his hip, "Yet you hold only a map to the ships that sail you into the past, using the winds of theory and experiences." He nodded to the book she still held in her hand. Something about him struck her as so very familiar. She couldn't place her finger on it.

She raised the book in her hand and looked to the bookkeep, "But I shall pay for this, young man, as I do think I will need it in the coming years of my time travel."

The bookkeep frowned. Drawing dark eyebrows down, not in an unkind manner but pensive. "I didn't know we had that book. Let me go and check what the price is." He held out his hand and she reached up and handed it over to him while the older gentleman eyed her.

She ignored him entirely, attempting to avoid any prying questions. She flicked through the newspapers as she waited, attempting to search for obituaries, mention of attacks.

She became involved once more, waiting for the bookkeep until the fourth paper. Finding no mention of death or attacks, she tossed it aside noisily and the bookkeep came back. He looked a little startled, when she so obviously was not finding what she was looking for.

He said, "Mr. Flately didn't know we were in possession of his book either- are you quite alright, madam?"

Hermione looked up at both men who had been watching her. The gentleman studying her unnervingly now that she thought of it. She decided that it couldn't hurt to be a little old woman out of touch with the world that asked questions.

She leafed through the front covers of two months. There was nothing splashed upon the covers of the newspapers which she had spread out. "Is there truly no mention of any rising Dark Power? Surely there has to be some terrible tragedies occurring now."

The two men had very different reactions. Stiff and wide eyed, the young man with the kind face revealed himself to have dark blue eyes as the whites became more prominent, and his eyebrows lifted.

The gentleman however, a velvety tone to his voice, "My dear girl, the papers won't print that- you in your esteemed age, should know very well that our Ministry keeps a tight hold the ... careful education of its people."

Hermione's eyes widened. That could imply many different things.

"They control all they can," His eyes were hooded, and he folded his hands together. There was a heavy ring upon his finger that looked like a signet ring.

"How dare they," she said, rage coursing through her in hot waves. "How dare they control people with fear and ignorance." She wasn't seeing very clearly at the moment and she could feel her hair become riled static, the curls frizzing out to the energy that crackled from her. It had been going on for decades, embedded in the whole history.

"They lie to their citizens, they keep their children ignorant of the goings on- they do not inform people or provision them with the arms of tools for knowledge." Realizing she needed to regain some etiquette, she grabbed the newspapers and stacked them all in a pile roughly. She banged her small fist on the counter.

Of course she had known that by her third year, things were not as they seemed.

"Controlling power." She snapped out and reminded her to control herself.

Laws, researching ways to get people out of going to Azkaban for things they had not done seemed to be impossible, because it was a tool of the government's power over people. She had lost utter faith in the justice of the government.

In her fourth year she lost trust in them to provide for the most basic needs of their people. To function as a government. In her fifth year, she indeed knew that they would harm their citizens in order to maintain power. In her sixth, she knew something was amiss with society as a whole, but by then she blamed it on Voldemort.

This, she breathed, this could not stand no matter what she had been intended to do here. She regained her sense of self. The older gentleman, concern in intense stormy eyes said, "Theo, fetch the lady some water."

The bookkeep, Theo, went behind the counter and into the back once more. Returning quickly with some water she had successfully avoided the gaze of the man still watching her. She said quietly as she accepted the glass, "If I may have one of you place the newspapers in my bag, I will make this purchase. I do apologize for my outburst."

Theo rang her up for a pittance of a galleon for her book- too low for any book of this age and rarity. During the exchange, the silvery haired gentleman bowed to her. "No apologies needed. We shall meet again now that you have joined us in the present."

She collected her bag which now held the newspapers inside and said, "I did not mean to keep you from your perusal of books. I do regret the distress it may have caused immensely. I hope you have a fine rest of your evening and I hope that you find what books you are looking for and even some that you aren't."

He smiled "Ah, t'was only a fruitless quest for my nephews who prefer sport and rambunctious play over books. Your fire was appreciated."

Hermione inclined her head and stepped outside. She gathered up her energy to once more hail the Knight bus home. If Leona looked confused at her offer of double pay, she couldn't tell.

She got home minutes before her parents arrived.

She hid the books and the papers beneath a carpet cut out under her bed as they were walking in. Hurriedly she shrugged off her dress and cardigan and stuffed it under her bed and leapt under her covers.

She heard Lily and her Mum sneak in. Her Mummy putting her hand to her forehead then kissing it softly. It was a long time before she was able to fall asleep, and she was restless in the black of sleep again.


Note: Updated 11/16 for readability and minor edits.