A/N: I own nothing, save for my small collection of words and phrases. It all belongs to the creative goddess of our generation, which is sadly, not me.
This is un-betaed, so any mistakes are my own. See one? Please let me know.
=========MM/HG=========
Saturday 19 June 2004
Minerva sat behind the large desk in the Head Office at Hogwarts, going through budget revisions. She'd always done them for Albus as well, and although she had absolutely no desire to continue doing them for herself, she couldn't bring herself to foist the most hated of duties off on anyone else. A discreet chime let her know that it was only an hour until midnight. With a sigh, she put aside her quill and recapped the pot of ink. The budgets could wait; she was going to bed.
Near one in the morning, Minerva couldn't get to sleep. She sat up in the bed and reached to punch her long pillow into shape before slumping back down onto it, somewhere between being on her stomach and her side, with her arms wrapped around the pillow the way one might cuddle into a lover by resting your head on their chest. It just wasn't the same. She was craving Morgan, and a lumpy pillow wouldn't do.
She sighed as she gave in to her baser desires and reached for her wand. She started by lengthening the already long pillow so that it was as long as Morgan was tall. She then gave it the shape of her lover's body, detaching pieces for the arms and splitting the bottom portion to make her legs. She turned a couple of the troublesome lumps into soft breasts, then, pleased with her work so far, she cast a heating charm and brought it to body temperature. The last addition was a simulated heartbeat and carefully timed breaths.
She laid her head on top of the heartbeat, wrapped her arms around the pillow's waist, and cast one final charm on the free arm of the pillow, making it stroke up and down her side the way Morgan used to do.
She hated herself every time she did this, but sometimes, it was the only way she could sleep when alone. Sure enough, she was soon drifting off to dreams.
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Several hours later, brown eyes scratched open, wondering why on earth her pillow was moving. Hermione tried to sit up to investigate, but found that she was being held down by a strong arm. Oh. Ron. Gods, I swore last time would be THE last time. How did I end up…? And then the memories crashed back into her mind. Celebrating the passage of the bill protecting the rights of house-elves. Getting piss-drunk on rum, which was never a good idea for her, but it was the only liquor in the house and nobody had felt like going out to get anything else. Being unable to sleep alone in her bed and crawling in with Ron. She squeezed her eyes back together tightly.
Hermione had sworn to herself that she wouldn't do this again with him. At first, it had been just release for both of them. She would need to feel loved, and he was alone and available, and they would satisfy their physical needs with each other. Lately, however, she thought she could feel more coming from his side, and she wanted to avoid hurting him if at all possible. She had always been clear on what she wanted from him, but they hadn't actually talked about it in a couple years, so maybe he was reading too much into the continued dalliance.
Managing to throw his arm off, she crept from the bed, gathered up her clothes, and bolted from the room. A quick shower later, with her hair in a pair of damp French braids, she pulled on a comfortable shirt, a pair of knee-length denim shorts, socks and trainers, grabbed her ever-present little beaded bag, and left the house for a day of shopping.
Other patrons of Diagon Alley gave her odd looks for her Muggle outfit, not having the benefit of a nice wizard's robe or cloak to cover it up, but she dressed very professionally six days of the week. Sundays were "damn them all" days where she wore what she wanted and a pox on anyone who cared.
The first shop she ducked into was, of course, Flourish and Blotts. She spent an hour going through their Transfiguration section, and another in Charms. She had picked out three Transfiguration books, and four Charms texts. Bringing the heavy books to the counter, she inquired about the rarer tomes she had on order, and was delighted to find that a couple had been found. She paid for her purchases, stowed them safely in her bag, and turned to leave.
She stopped herself when she noticed a tall witch standing between her and the door, busily perusing a thick book on Potions. She had red hair, lighter than Weasley-red and liberally sprinkled with blonde highlights, tumbling in loose curls around her face. She was three or four inches taller than Hermione, and willow-thin. Her facial features strongly resembled those of her former teacher, Severus Snape, and in fact, had Hermione not known better, she would have believed this witch to be the love-child of Snape and Lily Potter, Harry's mum. She even had Lily and Harry's eyes.
She was … beautiful, and Hermione was dumbstruck. Last night with Ron should have killed off her lustful impulses for a while, but this witch woke everything inside, making her body scream with want. Hermione made herself leave the shop before she made a fool of herself by walking up and asking the other woman out, not knowing anything about her. She was probably dead straight. Probably a pureblood elitist. Would probably hex Hermione for even daring to speak to her. Would definitely have slapped her if she'd just walked up and done what her body was urging her to do by snogging her to within an inch of sanity.
Hermione wandered aimlessly around Diagon Alley for a while until her lust had begun to cool. She had intended on doing quite a bit of shopping, but found that she needed to get out of magical London lest she saw the red-headed witch again. With a quick turn, she apparated back to the back garden of the CM.
Back in her rooms, she pulled the new books from her bag, setting them in a neat pile on one side of her reading desk. One of the two rare volumes was on top of the stack, and she laid it in front of her, gingerly opening it and beginning to read.
A couple hours later, she began to feel unsettled and it interrupted her reading. She picked her head up and looked around the room, finding the source of her unease standing in the doorway, propped against the frame. Ron was watching her read with a small, contented smile on his face.
"Did you need something?" Why, again, haven't I gotten a flat of my own so I can have real privacy and alone time? Oh, right. Money. Time. I might need to look into that soon. Especially as I will definitely no longer be using Ron the way I have been. It's unfair to him, especially if my suspicions are true.
"Sorta. Do you have a minute?" He pulled away from the doorframe and sauntered into her room.
She whined internally. I really don't want to deal with this right now. "Sure. What's up?" She turned in her chair to face his standing form.
"We… we have a good thing going here, don't we, Hermione?" He continued without waiting for a response. "I mean, half the time you leave without waking me, but you've always slept best alone, and you get up a lot earlier than I do, so I mostly appreciate that you let me sleep, but basically we're good, aren't we?"
She looked at him warily. "Basically. So far. Yes." Her words were stilted, wondering what was coming.
"Right, and I know some married couples who don't give each other the space and courtesy that we give each other, and they're miserable. We manage this way and we're pretty happy together. So, what I'm trying to get to is," he paused to swallow. She had figured out where he was going, much to her growing horror. "Marry me. Let's make it official. We may not have one of those passionate relationships that you read about in the Romance column of Witch Weekly, but we get along, and it's working for us. So," he knelt down in front of her, "marry me."
Her eyes slammed shut, and her worst fears for this conversation had just come true. "Ron. I… You know that no matter what, I love you. I always have, and I always will, but nothing's changed for me. I love you, but I don't love you like that." Oh god, here it comes. I don't want to do this. She opened her eyes, seeing the hurt on his face. She swallowed thickly past a lump in her throat and reached out to take his hand between hers. "I was actually going to talk to you soon about this. I … don't think we should continue the way we have been. It's not a healthy relationship that we've had the last few years. I'm sorry to hurt you, Ron, but somewhere you must know I'm right."
"Yeah, 'cause you're always right." He laughed bitterly. "Except when you're not right, and then you're total bollocks." He jerked his hand out of hers and stood to loom over her. "I'll be at The Burrow for a few days. I need some time." He stalked stiffly out of the room, leaving a stunned Hermione in her desk chair.
She couldn't formulate a coherent thought and just sat in her chair, staring at the door he'd slammed behind him. She sat, mind empty of everything for several minutes before the walls started closing in on her and she had to get out. She grabbed her bag, shoving the stack of books into it haphazardly, and ran down to the garden, apparating quickly away.
Hermione appeared outside the gates of Hogwarts seconds later. It was still several hours until she was supposed to be there, but she really needed to talk to her friend. She needed the comfort of the tea and the biscuits and the listening ears. So she walked up to the gates, pressed her hand to one of the metal bars, and waited for Minerva to come down.
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Minerva was not having a good day. After going to bed so late and having to charm her pillow just to sleep, she'd been woken up early because Peeves had taken it upon himself to wreak havoc in the kitchens just after dawn. With the students gone, it would normally have been a minor incident, but the house elves had witnessed too much of Peeves' shenanigans over the years, and had finally had enough.
Using some previously unknown variations of Wizards' magic, twisted into a form that elf-magic could use, they had frozen him in place. Then, they had transported him out of the kitchens, sending him whizzing at top speeds around the castle. Since he was frozen and in corporeal form, he had slammed into walls and doors, screaming at the top of his lungs.
Once she'd realized what was going on, Minerva had sat down with the leaders of the various factions of house-elves and talked them into bringing Peeves down to where they were meeting. They had done so, and stopped his flight, though he was still immobilized. She had finally wrangled an agreement out of the Poltergeist that he would henceforth leave the kitchens alone. If he broke his end of the agreement, the house-elves were given the right to band together and remove him from the school.
She had been more than a little surprised to find that they had the ability to do so, but was pleased to have finally found a way to control Peeves other than calling for the Bloody Baron.
An accord having been reached, the elves had released him, and horrified at his treatment, he'd run off to the deepest parts of the dungeons to sulk.
That had been at 7:30. Knowing she'd be unable to get back to sleep at that hour, Minerva went back to the budgets she'd given up the night before, managing to get the last revision done by noon. She'd just sat down to her lunch when she felt a tingle of the castle's magic, letting her know someone was at the front gates. Glancing longingly at her plate, she cast a charm to keep the food warm and went down to greet the visitor.
It was a nice day outside; the sun was shining brightly, there was a cool breeze blowing, and the students were finally all gone, so it was calm and quiet. Despite her lunch having been interrupted, Minerva was quite enjoying her walk down to the gates. Since there were very few people left in the castle, she had decided to leave her heavy robes for the day, and was dressed in her standard comfort-wear. Her oxford shirt was turquoise-colored and short-sleeved, the top two buttons unfastened. Her loose-fitting trousers were a bright white. Her hair was still in its bun, but she chose not to wear her hat unless she was wearing robes, and loose strands were blowing gently in the breeze.
She smiled when she saw Hermione waiting, hours early. Her day had just gotten immensely better.
The gates swung open noiselessly, and Hermione turned to face her approaching friend. As soon as their eyes met, Minerva's smile faded and her eyes softened with concern, feet halting their progress. There was something wrong.
Hermione took hesitant steps forward before rushing the remaining distance between them, wrapping her arms around the slim waist and burying her head into Minerva's chest, beginning to sob almost immediately.
Minerva had seen what was coming with about two seconds' notice, and had been able to prepare for the impact. As the younger woman threw herself into the embrace, Minerva wrapped her left arm around Hermione's back, bringing the right up to cradle the back of the head tucked under her chin. As she'd done before, Minerva comforted her friend with soft words and a warm embrace, allowing her to cry out her grief.
Hermione's tears began to slow, and her voice scratched out, "Oh, Minerva, why did he have to fuck it all up?"
"Why did who have to …fuck what up?" Minerva frowned and stuttered over the vulgar word, and her hands stopped their soothing motions along Hermione's back.
Hermione shoved herself back and spat out, "Ron!"
"Ah, I see." I thought she'd given up on Weasley years ago. "What has the thickheaded Mr. Weasley done now?" She found herself tensed up, hands clasped tightly in front of her, arms rigid, with lips pursed in disapproval. Merlin help him if he'd hurt her Hermione.
"He proposed, the great git." Hermione was pacing in front of Minerva now, arms gesticulating wildly. "As though I'd want that! I thought he knew by now! Why would he be so bloody stupid?" She stopped and deflated somewhat. "Why would he do it, Minerva? Now everything's ruined."
Minerva's eyes were wide open at the revelation. "He… proposed. Marriage?"
"No, he proposed that we get up on the table and dance like drunken monkeys." She snapped. "Of course he proposed marriage." Hermione was sorry for her words the moment they left her lips, but it was too late to take them back. She expected Minerva to lecture her on the proper ways a young woman should address her elders or her friends, and was bracing herself with closed eyes.
She didn't expect to hear Minerva's voice calmly say, "Walk with me, Hermione."
Her eyes cracked open, seeing the older woman standing, more relaxed than a moment earlier, and holding a crooked arm out in Hermione's direction.
"You seem like you have some rather unpleasant things to discuss, and in my experience, unpleasant things can be made to appear somewhat less so if discussed outside on glorious days like today." She gestured with her elbow, and her voice picked up a bit more steel. "Walk with me."
Still shocked, Hermione placed her hand in the crook of Minerva's outstretched left arm, and found her hand tucked against the side of her companion, being patted lightly by Minerva's free right hand. Thankful for the calming contact, Hermione rested her left hand on top of the pile, squeezing the one underneath hers, and the two witches began to walk.
"I'm sorry I was snappish." Hermione managed after a moment.
"No need, dear. I was the one who asked a stupid question." Minerva looked over at the witch by her side. "Now that you appear to have calmed down a bit, why don't you tell me what happened."
They continued walking, coming up on the Western shore of the lake, and turning to walk along its bank, curving North toward the castle.
Hermione sighed, gathering her thoughts. She wasn't sure how much to reveal to Minerva about the circumstances with Ron and their strange relationship over the last few years. Should she tell about Luna, especially now that she was going to marry Harry? Should she tell about the other encounters she'd had besides Ron and Luna?
After all, Luna hadn't been her only female lover. Yes, she and Ron been each other's crutches, but there had been times over those five years when he'd been in a relationship. Hermione would put her need off as long as possible, but her fingers alone were never quite enough to silence it completely. It hadn't happened too frequently, but when things got bad enough, Hermione would be absent from the CM for a night.
She'd found a couple of gay and lesbian nightclubs in Muggle London, and once or twice a year, had visited them with the intention of finding a quick tryst. There was never a shortage of women who approached Hermione in these clubs, and she would pick one from the throng and go back to their place for the night.
She'd learned the art of how to look at someone with the right amount of smolder to awaken their own lust. It was usually a good indicator of whether the woman was receptive to advances or only there with a friend. Hermione did love Ron, and was able to be satisfied by him, but these amorous liaisons with Muggle women cemented in her heart the knowledge that while she did have some vague interest in men, women were truly where her heart lay.
Yet, she'd continued to use Ron because of convenience, and she was ashamed of herself for allowing it to go on as long as it had.
Sighing deeply again, she decided to just start with the proposal and whatever came out after that would just have to be okay.
"I… we. We got drunk last night. On Rum. Harry and Luna, Ginny and Neville, and Ron and me. We were celebrating and we got beyond drunk. Rum is not my best liquor unless I want certain things to happen, and … well …" she paused to shrug, wincing, "Ron was there. And available. And I slept with him. I knew it was a mistake as soon as I woke up, and I ducked out and went shopping for books. When I came back, he proposed – and rather badly really, at that. Of course I turned him down, because I don't love him like that and never have, and I thought he felt the same way, but now he's angry with me, and we won't ever be able to go back to what we had before, and it's all the fault of the rum and that damned witch in the bookshop who was really far more attractive than any woman has the right to be, and damn it all, I don't know what I'm going to do."
Minerva listened to the long confession, surprised first by Hermione's admission of a long-term physical relationship with Ron, further shocked when she'd left him to go book shopping, of all things, and finally astonished by the vague reference to an apparently very attractive witch.
She reached up to rub her forehead between her eyes, and cut through it all. "So, you had sex with a man whom you do not love – I'm assuming not for the first time – were subsequently surprised by an unexpected proposal, which you turned down, hurting your friend-slash-lover, correct?"
"Yes." Minerva thought Hermione at least had the decency to sound embarrassed and guilty.
"That much of it, I can understand, even if I don't approve. You've treated him abominably from the way you describe things. However, what I don't understand is this reference to a woman in a bookshop?"
Damn. She picked up on that part. Well, here goes! "Right. And yes, I know I've treated him badly, but to your point, there was a woman reading when I was getting ready to leave Flourish and Blotts this morning. She was … incredibly beautiful, and I was so attracted to her that if the location and situation been different, I would have snogged the hell out of her. You see," she gulped, "I like women as well as men. Actually, I like women a hell of a lot more than I like men."
"Ah." Minerva couldn't get anything else out. Now she understood everything.
"Please don't hate me. I don't know if I could bear that on top of everything else. I know it's a shock, but that's why I could never have accepted Ron's proposal. I mean, he knew. I told him and Harry years ago when I started dating … On second thought, I'd better not name names, especially as she's decided she's more into men these days. But anyway, he knew, and I just don't get where the proposal came from."
"Dear girl, I couldn't hate you, either for that or anything else. It's not something you can control. You love whom you love." She let out a short 'hmph' of laughter. "If I hated you for loving women, I'd have to hate myself, and that is simply unacceptable."
Hermione's eyes were as wide as saucers, "You…?"
"Yes, dear one," She squeezed at Hermione's captive hand, "I'm … what's the vernacular these days, gay? Have been all my life, although I didn't realize it for some years. You've heard me talk about Morgan, Hermione. Did you really think just any old friend would leave me full access to a vault filled with enough gold to pay for several hundred Apprenticeships as long and expensive as yours?"
Hermione sputtered, "I just never thought about it."
Minerva's eyes acquired a devilish glint, "You're the one always insisting I'm not so very old. Are you insinuating that I'm too old for love?"
"Not at all. I maintain that you're not old, despite whatever numbers you try to throw at me." Hermione had been laughing, but her voice got quiet as she said, "It's just that you've always seemed so alone. You stay here at the school all summer, every summer and every break. We've become quite good friends in the years since the Battle, and this is the first I'm hearing of anything. I've only seen you outside of Hogwarts – or during school at Order Headquarters – a handful of times. I'm sorry that I've misunderstood you all this time."
"Well, Morgan and I don't have the most conventional of relationships, that's true, and I am sad, Hermione. Morgan has always had some sort of very secretive profession, and we usually go several years not being able to see each other, but I haven't heard from her since before the war ended, and I'm worried that she didn't make it. I understand if she's busy with her job and can't get away, but I wish she would just let me know she made it; that she's alive and okay." Minerva stopped walking and took in a ragged breath, gripping tightly to Hermione's hand on her arm. "I think I could handle the idea of never seeing her again, Hermione, if that's what had to happen, as long as she's alive and well. I can't stand the thought of being alive and in the world if she is not." Hot tears spilled over her cheeks, and her eyes closed, trying to fight the overwhelming tide of emotion.
Hermione held her hands tightly to those of her friend, trying to offer strength and what support she had to give. She'd never had the slightest idea of what one of her best friends was going through every day, and she was ashamed to have repeatedly brought her own troubles to Minerva's door.
"Is there anything I can do?" She gently asked, her heart inwardly breaking.
"No, child. There's nothing anybody can do except for Morgan herself." Minerva collected herself and began walking again. They were nearly at the entrance to the castle. "Let's go up for tea and clean ourselves up. Then we'll talk some more, if you wish."
Hermione squeezed Minerva's hand again. "That sounds lovely."
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The two women sat in Minerva's rooms for hours, sharing lunch, tea and biscuits later, and much later, dinner. With a new openness, they discussed their respective pasts. Armed with trust, Hermione finally told Minerva about her relationship with Luna in her final year of school. She even grudgingly told her of the few random one-night stands she'd had, not proud of them, but finally feeling free to speak of them. Minerva understood, and said she might have resorted to such activities over the years had her feelings for Morgan not been as strong as they were.
Finally, near to midnight, Hermione used the Floo and went back to the large, empty house on Grimmauld Place. Her heart was still heavy over the pain she'd caused Ron, but there was also a lightness to her, brought about by the new level her relationship with Minerva had reached after they'd admitted their similar proclivities.
Minerva was hurting too much for Hermione to be able to ignore, and she was going to try and fix things between Minerva and Morgan.
But how?
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It was Wednesday before she began to have a glimmer of a plan. Mistress O'Neill had taken on another apprentice a year after Hermione. Sally-Anne Perks and Hermione were the same age, and had started Hogwarts the same year, but the two hadn't had much chance to interact. Sally-Anne had been sorted into Ravenclaw, and had been even more withdrawn and solitary than Hermione had been at first.
Sally-Anne's parents had pulled her from Hogwarts after their fourth year, when her cousin Cedric Diggory had been killed by Voldemort the night he returned. After three years of being taught at home, her parents had consented to allow her to return to Hogwarts to properly complete her education. With proper testing, Sally-Anne had been classified as a sixth-year when Hermione had been taking her delayed seventh-year courses.
She didn't have as much interest in Transfiguration as Hermione did, and was pursuing only the one Mastery in Charms, so she was closer to completing hers than Hermione was. She had completed all of her course-work, and was working through the summer to be able to present her final project as soon as possible.
The Apprentice-to-Master process began with theoretical work, concentrating on ethics and how and why spells worked the way they did. Then it moved on to practical work, ensuring that everyone who reached the Master level was able to satisfactorily cast every standard spell taught, both with and without their wand, and both verbally and non-verbally. The studies culminated in the creation of a new spell or item, using the framework provided by all the earlier studies. This creation of a new spell or item was the final project on which Sally-Anne was currently working.
Hermione was nearing that portion of both of her study courses, and didn't know what she wanted to try and create. A conversation with Sally-Anne and Mistress O'Neill that morning started a chain reaction that would cause ripples across the fabric of time itself.
It turned out that Sally-Anne Perks had chosen, for her final project, to create a new Locator Charm. With the eradication of Dementors following Voldemort's defeat, Azkaban was left to be staffed by qualified witches and wizards, and they were simply not as infallible as their predecessors. Without the constant drain of happiness and energy provided by the Dementors, prisoners found that they had more time to concentrate on thinking of ways to escape from the rock, and escape they did, at times. It wasn't terribly frequent, as the prison itself was remote, warded to the gills, and staffed by wizards very well skilled in the arts of keeping prisoners in line.
Now and then, however, someone would get free, and inevitably set out to seek revenge or wreak general havoc. Sally-Anne's aunt had been the unwitting victim of an escapee, and her improved Locator Charm would benefit the prison's guards, as all it required was a bit of hair or anything else which could be used in a Polyjuice potion, and it would give an immediate location, working much like a Muggle GPS chip inserted under the skin, but far more reliable in that while a chip can be surgically removed, one cannot escape their genetic fingerprint.
From this, Hermione had a brilliant idea. She wanted to find Morgan for Minerva, and once Sally-Anne's project was complete, if she could only get a bit of genetic material somehow, she could use the Locator Charm to find Morgan and bring her back.
Her plan was barely formed, and riddled with holes and problems, but it was something.
=========MM/HG=========
The following Sunday, Hermione used her day off to find, rent, and move into her own flat in Muggle London. Living frugally with Harry and Ron the last several years left her with a little nest egg, and she made enough at the Ministry, even working only part time, to support herself if she continued being frugal.
The flat wasn't large, and it wasn't luxurious. It was a small two bedroom flat with one tiny bathroom, and a combined kitchen, dining room, and living area. The master bedroom was barely big enough to hold a double bed and had a small closet that nonetheless held all of Hermione's clothing with ease. She was a witch, after all. The second bedroom was very small, but was just large enough to hold her bookshelves and a small reading and writing desk.
Luckily for her, the main area of the flat did have a fireplace, and she had arranged with the Ministry to hook it up to the Floo network. After the war had ended, she'd left Crookshanks at the Burrow. He was happy there, able to chase garden Gnomes to his heart's content, and between his own hunting and Molly's cooking, he was very well-fed. Arthur and Molly enjoyed having him around, and he was becoming spoiled. Hermione couldn't bear to take him away from that, and thus didn't have to worry about pet deposits, or trying to care for him with her very busy schedule.
Every Saturday, unbeknownst to her, Kreacher came in and kept her flat clean, knowing how his Mistress got caught up in her work and studies and would forget to do basic things like laundry or cleaning under the rim of her toilet. She never wondered how things never got dirty, and he never confessed to helping her out. It was his job; his raison d'etre, and he would not allow his Mistress to live in filth if he had anything to say about it.
=========MM/HG=========
A month later, she was still working through her plan, trying to figure it all out, but was missing the key ingredient of a way to get some of Morgan's hair or skin or something without letting Minerva in on the plan.
Hermione hadn't had much time to read in the last month, and decided to put her plan-making aside for one night and indulge in her deepest passion by reading the books she'd purchased the day her plan had been hatched.
In one of the two rare tomes that had come in that day, Hermione found the solution to her problems. There was a large portion on time-turners and their creation, and she had a major breakthrough. That's it. A time-turner. I'll create a new time-turner. I'll improve its range and capabilities, and I'll go back in time for the hair, then bring it back here and cast the Locator Charm and bring Morgan and Minerva back together!
She sat up most of the night, making notes on how she might be able to acquire the raw materials necessary, and possibilities on how to improve the existing structure of a time-turner to make it do what she needed it to do. From everything she could surmise, it would be a massive feat, requiring both strong charms and transfiguration spells, and if she succeeded, the creation of this new item would serve to satisfy the requirements for completing both of her Masteries.
=========MM/HG=========
Getting the materials was more difficult than Hermione had initially expected. When they'd made such a mess of the Time Room in the Department of Mysteries eight years prior, it had taken several Unspeakables to halt the progress of destruction and repair at just the right moment to save a few precious time-turners. Some were still stuck in the endless cycle. Therefore, she was told in no few words that they didn't care what kind of project she was working on, they would not part with even one grain of Sand in their possession. The Ministry did, however, say that if she could get ahold of some sand through other means, they would be able to provide her with one of the expandable chains which were used to allow witches and wizards to wear the standard-issue time-turners around their necks.
So Hermione spoke with Bill Weasley, who used to work in Egypt for Gringotts, and he used some of his contacts to get her a small vial of fresh Sands of Time. Even though it was such a tiny amount, she thought it would be more than enough, although Bill had assured her that if she needed more to let him know. His source was interested in knowing the outcome of her experiments, and had said that whatever she needed would be hers.
The glass which made up the hourglass was just regular glass, and therefore unimportant to the process, basically only delineating how far a traveler could go in the number of turns. It had been proposed over the years that a charm could be built into the creation process to give more control instead of having to turn the glass over and over, but nobody had yet come up with a spell that worked.
The chain which had been promised to her by the Ministry had no effect on how the old turners worked, but was key to the process if a trip required more than one person. That was why they were made to be so expandable; one chain could extend enough to allow up to five people to travel together if necessary.
Working from these initial parameters, Hermione worked with Masters Piliwickle and O'Neill to devise a working method to improve upon the time-turner.
First, the acceptable range needed to be adjusted to allow for travel over many years rather than only a few hours.
Second, there needed to be a way to get back home without having to live the median time. With as far back as Hermione was going to have to jump to accomplish her goal, this was essential.
Third, security measures needed to be in place to prevent the initial traveler from being stuck in the past while someone else used the device to see the future.
Mistress O'Neill was the first to suggest a solution to the first problem. If the grains of Sand were no longer loose, they wouldn't need to be kept inside a glass container, and chances of breakage were greatly reduced, which assisted with the ideas set forth in the third problem.
Hermione came up with the idea to transfigure the Sand into its own glass crystal using the idea of her Charms Mistress. Using plain sand to experiment, she found that she could do the transfiguration only with the addition of strong heat, much like Muggle glass-blowers used to turn sand into works of glass art. Three weeks of trials, and several failed tries finally had Hermione ready to use the real Sand, but she needed to solve the other issues before doing so.
One Sunday meeting at the Burrow, called to celebrate the upcoming birth of Bill and Fleur's third child, resulted in the other two problems being partially solved. Bill had asked about Hermione's progress, and she was complaining that she hadn't been able to find a set of Latin words that closely approximated what she wanted for the Incantations. Having heard the conversation, Fleur suggested she look at other languages, reminding her that while Latin was the normal language used for coming up with spell-words, other languages were equally valid. She even offered that since the Sands came from Egypt, Hermione may want to look at words taken from Egyptian or Arabic.
Elated at the implications, Hermione grabbed Fleur and kissed her for the suggestion, not thinking about the consequences of what she was doing. Everyone had stopped and stared, mostly horrified at what they were seeing. It was an innocent kiss, but it did go on for several seconds, and afterward, Fleur dismissed a blushing Hermione's concerns as the effects of a pregnant witch with Veela heritage, thanking her for a lovely kiss with a subtle wink.
Later, Hermione remembered the kiss with a smile. She'd wondered for years what it would be like to kiss the quarter-Veela, and Fleur had not disappointed.
Looking into both Egyptian and Arabic vocabulary, Hermione finally found the perfect Incantations. The first was Ausafr, which was Arabic for "I travel." Having the first of the words, she was able to solve the second problem in full. Arj, Arabic for "I return," would allow the original caster to return to the exact time and place from which they left. Putting the words in the tense she did also partially solved the third problem of security. Only the traveler would be able to properly cast Arj, as anyone else who tried, would simply return to their own origin; having not used the crystal in the first place, they would remain where they were.
Another month passed, and Hermione finally had a breakthrough on how to solve the final problem of security. In order to use the crystal to return home, the traveler would have to have it on his or her person. However, while in the past, there were far too many ways it could be lost or misplaced, keeping the traveler stuck. She had ordered Muggle takeaway for her dinner, not feeling up to cooking. She'd gone down when her food had arrived, and the young delivery man was riddled with tattoos on every exposed piece of his skin. This had given Hermione an idea. Once Ausafr was cast, the crystal would disappear from the hand, and reappear as a tattoo somewhere on the traveler's body, enabling the return spell to be cast at any time.
In the event that more than one person attempted to make the same trip, the tattoo would appear on each of them so that they could return even if separated in the past, although the physical crystal would only reappear to whoever had been holding it when they departed.
The final problem to be addressed had been resolved. The only thing left to do at that point was to start testing.
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Hermione began by creating her trademark Bluebell Flame inside a charmed diamond jar, then changing the mild heat of the Bluebell Flame into Fiendfyre, which burned hot enough to melt the Sands of Time. As she magically formed the crystal from the molten blob, she built in the syntax, the Incantations, the security features, and slowly, the white-hot material changed from a loose disc into a hexagonal bipyramid, solidifying slowly into a crystal that was a soft blue color. Before it could become completely solid, she added a small hole through the center of the crystal, coming down through the two outer points. Another whispered component of the complex set of charms and transfigurations spells caused the golden chain to thread itself through the hole, fixing the crystal in place in the center of the chain.
With a blinding flash, it was finished.
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Saturday 09 October 2004
It had been nearly four months since her conversation with Minerva following the unwelcome proposal, and Hermione was ready to test her invention for the first time. She'd arranged with Mr. Catalpa to have a Saturday off from her Ministry job in order to have this important first test. In a joint meeting with Master Piliwickle and Mistress O'Neill, they had decided that given its shape, and the fact that it no longer required any turns to work, they would call it a Time Crystal rather than Time-Turner.
The syntax for the Incantations had been written in the format of "Specific Location. Time. Date, Year. Ausafr!" For her first test, they agreed that she should attempt to go back only one hour, to a secured location. To prevent skewing of results from foreknowledge, Master Piliwickle was sent ahead to the destination with a Mediwizard, and Mistress O'Neill was with Hermione.
As confident as Hermione was in her abilities and in the work she'd done, she was still a little nervous about the test. Samantha was holding Hermione's hands, reminding her to breathe, assuring her student that her work was solid, and there would be no problems. Hermione looked up into her mentor's shining blue eyes, and caught the sly wink thrown her way, calming down immediately.
She stood up, ready to prove that she was every bit as brilliant as everyone claimed she was. Holding her wand in one hand, tightly gripping the crystal where it hung from the thin golden chain around her neck in the other, she clearly stated the location where Preston was waiting for her, the time as it was an hour ago, and the day's date. With a shouted Ausafr, Hermione disappeared without a sound.
An hour earlier, she appeared quietly in front of her Transfiguration Master and the Mediwizard he'd brought in. The Mediwizard, Healer Abstemious White, checked Hermione over carefully and found no adverse effects from the jump. The tattoo had appeared on her left arm, just above the elbow. The crystal was nestled on the inside of her elbow, in the crook of her arm, and the chain wound artfully around her upper arm. Hermione spoke the return incantation, and was met an hour later by both of her Masters and Healer White, who again checked but found that no negative impact had been made.
With the Healer's assessment having been made, there was a happy celebration as the first test was deemed a success.
Over the next three months, Hermione tested the Crystal over longer and longer jumps, finding that the tattoo never moved, no matter how many trips she made. She never had any sort of reaction to a jump, even when she briefly popped in to an empty Grimmauld Place fifteen years back. She'd stayed there only a few minutes, not wanting to be seen by Kreacher or the portrait of Sirius' mum.
Finally, just before Christmas, the Time Crystal was hailed as a complete success, and Transfiguration Master Preston Piliwickle and Charms Mistress Samantha O'Neill were both delighted to present Hermione with her certificates, fully qualifying her as a Mistress of both subjects.
Hermione was pleased with the accomplishment, and now that she knew she could get back to get what she needed, she was ready to do so. Sally-Anne's Locator Charm had been a success as well, so all she needed was to make the jump, get the hair, and come back. She had a week and a half until Christmas, and she thought she had the best Christmas present she could ever give to Minerva: Morgan.
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Hermione was making her last-minute preparations to go meet the mysterious Morgan Stewart. In the six months since setting herself on this course, Hermione had subtly worked some details out of Minerva in their meetings. She knew that the first time Minerva and Morgan met, it had been the day after Minerva's twenty-first birthday, and she'd been in Hogsmeade to meet her brothers for a birthday celebration. Minerva had smiled sadly when she said she had been supposed to meet them at one-thirty that afternoon, but that as usual, the boys had been late and that's when she'd met Morgan and changed her life.
Hermione had done extensive research on fashions of the day, and had transfigured some of her old school robes into something that wouldn't look out of place, but would still be comfortable to wear. She'd decided to fix her hair in a simple bun, low on the back of her head, but with a few pieces left loose in the front to artfully arrange to soften the look.
At the last minute, she thought about the paradox that could be created by showing up out of her own time, and employed a few good glamours. She changed the color of her hair from brown to the strange mixture of red and blonde that she remembered having seen on the witch in the bookshop, loosening her curls just a bit, but mostly leaving the texture of her hair alone. She altered the shape of her eyes, tilting the outer corners up just a touch; it was enough to make a difference, but not enough to give the impression of being a different nationality. The point was to blend in, not to stand out.
Deciding that the risks of changing one's eye color wasn't worth the further camouflage it would provide, she left her eyes brown. In a final touch, she lengthened her nose by just a centimeter or two, giving it a perky upturn that made her look distinguished, but not snobby. Height, weight, and body shape were common enough amongst witches that she didn't bother to try and conceal that part of her, thinking the changes to her face would be enough.
The last thing she needed to do was devise a way to talk to Morgan before she met Minerva that day so she could surreptitiously get ahold of a hair or two – hopefully voluntarily – and for that, she pulled out a pristine piece of parchment, and using her best quill, penned a short note, which she would send via owl from the Hogsmeade post office when she arrived.
"Miss Morgan Stewart,
I know you don't know me, but I would appreciate if you could meet me at the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade at one o'clock this afternoon to discuss a mutual friend. Many thanks.
H.G."
Hoping that the initials wouldn't give anything away if Minerva ever saw the note, she folded the parchment and tucked it into the pocket of her robe before donning the cloak she thought she might need for a Scotland October.
She hadn't had much need to use the Apple-wood wand she'd gotten from Mr. Ollivander before she came back to finish her career at Hogwarts, and decided it would do nicely for this trip.
Her glamours in place, her transfigured clothing on, and the note tucked safely into her pocket, she pulled out the Apple wand and gripped it in her dominant right hand. She reached up with the left to tuck the Time Crystal into its palm. Swallowing nervously, she breathed in and incanted, "Outside the Three Broomsticks, Hogsmeade, Scotland. Noon. The Fifth of October, Nineteen Forty-Six. Ausafr!"
Her flat was left empty, and she appeared at exactly noon on the specified day, next to the front door of Hogsmeade's Wizarding pub, just as expected.
What she didn't expect was the rush of weakness that washed over her, just as it had when she'd unwisely apparated thousands of miles over the recommended distance all those years ago.
"Shite," she whispered as she fell to the ground in a dead faint, her head cracking on the stone steps leading into the pub.
=========MM/HG=========
Hexagonal Bipyramid: Two eight-sided pyramids, stuck together at the bases. Basically, imagine the PlumbBob from the Sims, only shorter and a bit wider around, with the chain threaded through the two longest points.
My resources website (link on author profile) has some images corresponding with this chapter in which you may be interested. First, there is an image of the Time Crystal. Second, there is an image of how I saw the red-haired witch's hair, which was later appropriated by Hermione for her past disguise. Third, there are a couple of pictures of Charms Mistress Samantha O'Neill in case you haven't seen or heard of Stargate SG-1 and wanted to know what she looks like. (Amanda Tapping! *swoons*)
One last item to be addressed: Minerva's age. The HP Lexicon has Minerva's birth year as 1925, and I hold to that. With the addition of the biography on Pottermore, it seems as though Jo meant for her to actually have been born in 1935, but I've always thought of Minerva as having been a peer of Tom Riddle, and a 1925 birth puts her one year above him in school, and Head Girl the year before he was Head Boy. It has her leaving Hogwarts in 1943, and able to therefore help in the end of the fight against Grindelwald, which I've always had in my headcanon. Yes, this makes her another decade older than Hermione, but with the Wizarding world aging the way they do in my world, it doesn't matter that much. So in this fic (and in all of my fics), she was born in 1925, not 1935, making her age 21 in 1946. The rest of what I've changed in her past will be explained as the story continues.
Thank you all for your support. It means so much.