CH7 Tempus Fugit
AN: Thanks, Jlove34 & JuliSt for reviewing! It is amazing to get feedback- it totally motivates me!
As rapid of a release of the Hermione POV Chapter as I could manage. I wanted this to be part of my last update, but alas it wasn't in the cards! Life is insane right now, but I am trying to finish this story by March 2018 and I want it to be at least 100K words. So… expect more frequent updates from here on out!
Enjoy!
July 22nd 1899 – 2:30 p.m. – Millicent Wilkins (Hermione) – Potter Residence – Godric's Hollow.
It seemed unjust that time did not cease, and that the sun and moon continued to rise and fall despite the fact that she was not yet home. Hermione wasn't ready to accept her alteration of time and yet time continued to march along, dragging her against her will, not even allowing her respite in breath or words. Her conclusion? Time was cruel, and it made exceptions for no one.
It had been 9 full days of living in the past now and everything Eloise had predicted about the timeline accommodating her had come true. It was as though she'd executed the perfect swan dive into the past, not even a ripple left to give her away.
While abundantly grateful for their care, the Potters had adjusted to her being a permanent person in their life with such little fuss it unnerved Hermione. Hermione had survived the flux without so much as a stutter and the world altogether gave her no status as an interloper, and no indication was supplied that anything had changed for anyone else. Quite simply, she now fit and existed in a world (nearly a century before her own birth,) with no rhyme or reason.
Further, it had been 5 days since Hermione had last seen either Unspeakable. While happy with unexpected break from Eloise, without the unusual pair's daily attentions, she began to feel nervous. She wondered if they'd forgotten about her, or worst, worried they had given up. She felt restless as an effect- and confused. Was she now to go on living under another name with no answers about anything? It was like falling into a dream she couldn't wake up from. A dream that she might get used to… one she might enjoy. The thoughts felt wicked. The thoughts felt like she was giving up, but truly what could she do?
With no indications of if and when the Unspeakables might show up again, Hermione felt herself falling into a routine. Daily she learned the motions of being a family member in the Potter household, as though things had never been different. Nightly, Hermione had taken time memorizing her new life for the sake of playing along. She memorized locations in France, and committed pictures to memory as though they truly did mean something to her.
Even before her incident with the tree, Persephone and Henry had worked with the Unspeakables to come up with a plan should she remain in this time indefinitely.
In the end, the deceased Hephaestus Wilkins had become Millicent Wilkin's new (false) father. He had been the oldest Wilkins sibling by three years, Persephone was the middle, Heliotrope was the youngest. Hephaestus (or Gus for short) had died on an Erumpent hunting expedition roughly 6 years ago. The timing oddly fit their need, and the lie was all together too good to pass up.
Physically and mentally she could do little, save accept the truths she couldn't deny, after all she was literally trapped in the past, and she was utterly dependent on people who might no longer exist in her own time. Emotionally she was still suffering. She felt unbalanced, and accepting this new path in life felt like giving up. Imagining herself as a character in a Shakespeare play had become one of many coping mechanisms, helping her situation appear more novel and much less tragic.
Outside of longing for the loss of her parents, and playing the role of daughter, and sister, Hermione threw herself into her old regiment… reading. In the hot and stagnant days that passed, Hermione learned the labors of reading Shakespeare. Henry had helpfully retrieved the play, "A Winters Tale ", from the Muggle world for her, and it became her comfort item despite the fact that the dated dialect eluded her.
Stubbornly, she read the words over and over, clinging to them like a long forgotten lullaby. Had she seen the play to which she'd received her name? Absolutely. Had she ever picked up the play itself to read? No. Would she admit this to the Potters? Not a chance! As far as they would know, she was an expert in, A Winters Tale!
She quickly deducted that watching the play was much different then reading it. Actors portraying characters did so with emotions, and actions. Interpreting the words alone was regrettably beyond her comprehension at present.
Hermione groaned loudly in irritation, she loathed being ignorant on any topic! Even if Shakespeare was advanced reading for most adults it bothered her that she would need years to master the words to a degree that she was satisfied with. What did she really want to accomplish at present though, bragging rights? Her head popped up from where it had been resting on her chin, and her focus blurred then and refocused.
It was just unfortunate that her mind at that moment felt unraveled at best. The hell with Shakespeare, she thought irritably. The hell with deciphering archaic words in a stiff dress in the merciless dead of summer! As though another person took hold of her body just then, she flung the book (to which she'd been holding like a teddy bear for days) across the lawn. She watched it land in the shadow of the tree she'd scaled days earlier. The book closed without a marker. Open mouthed she felt a rush of adrenaline from the action. In fact… she felt exhilarated… downright rebellious, because for the first time ever- she didn't care!
Fleas happy squeal announced him seconds before he landed on her bodily. The toddler was like a tiny wrecking ball, and oddly she'd quickly become accustomed to having the wind knocked from her. In the short time she'd been there, Fleamont had managed to worm into her affections quicker then anyone else. The walls that she'd erected against the others didn't exist with him, for he as a baby had offered his love without expectations. Furthermore at home she had no siblings, no cousins, nor any real friends of her own. So it didn't feel like loving him meant she was replacing someone else. It wasn't like having new parents suddenly for instance.
"Morning Flea," she said through a pained grin. Happy for the distraction, she shoved the wild toddler from her chest to sit up fully. Flea growled in response, and Hermione shook her head at him in amusement, Fleamont's fascination in becoming a dragon had not yet failed to entertain her. She found herself smiling at his attempt at being menacing. Currently he had his sharp and mischievous eyes focused on her, and each of his small teeth showed through a proper scowl.
"Oh no- a Dragon!" Hermione played along, feigned fear. Grasping at her chest as if startled, she leapt to her feet theatrically, and moved forward in the motions of running, but under her skirt her legs were hardly moving.
Flea laughed at his own cunning, and smile crossed his face fast as lightening. Bemusedly she laughed despite pretending to be a victim. Predictably his laughter morphed into new attempts at being fierce, and he lunged at her again.
Hermione cried out loudly and staggered along as though too exhausted to escape him. Needless to say, Fleamont closed the gap quickly, nipping and snarling furiously as he came. Within pouncing distance, she froze up in mock horror and gasped. then pretended to faint.
Fighting from smiling was harder then playing dead. Even with her eyes closed she could picture him as he slowly he crept towards her. She didn't need her sight to know where he was either because his giggles gave him away. Evermore she allowed him time to take her bait, letting his confidence grow while he advanced on her poking at her for a reaction, until he'd come flush up to head level.
She felt his tiny hands on her face testing her, jabbing at her eyelids and trying to peel them open. She held her stance, and when she felt his breath on her cheeks she made her move. Jumping up suddenly and without warning she screamed bodily. Flea fell back on his bottom in shock, his face masked in a horror so comical she broke into peels of laughter.
Flea took a full minute to catch up to the hilarity of the situation but then burst into laughter of his own. Blissfully ignorant of the world, the pair tossed around on the grass together clutching their bellies in laughter. Fleamont's smile, one of pure unadulterated admiration and love. Hermione decided she could definitely live with having him as a brother even if he wasn't really hers.
"Managing to stay out trees at least," Castor Potter drawled before swallowing something large enough to stopper his speech momentarily. Cat like he he stepped out from under the shade of the tree to stand above the pair. "Taking up wildcats next… Monkey?"
Apparently in the ruckus of finding her after the tree incident, Eloise had coined her a new nickname, and Castor had readily adopted it. Grinning down at her wickedly, his mouth full of candy, he stepped onto her book without noticing what it was. As she gave him her full attention she noticed his pockets bulged, and his hands were also over burdened with his loot.
She deducted that sometime during her game with Flea he had arrived. Truly, had she not suffered enough? Her stomach squirmed unpleasantly as she glowered up at him. Why was she cursed with the presence of this boy?
"You again?" She said, thrusting up her chin despite the copious amounts of grass caught in her hair.
"Me," he confirmed with a Cheshire smile. "Every Monday through Friday for the rest of summer."
"I'm bursting at the thought." Fleamont pulled at her hair to regain her attention but the moment had been ruined by the presence of her menace.
"Careful, he bites." Castor informed her as he selected a new piece of candy from his pockets.
"I'm aware," she said briskly. And truly, she was… because beneath her sleeves, her arms were doted up with bruises from where Flea had bitten. She had strongly considered house training with a squirt gun. Her old neighbor had trained her dog not to bite that way… so couldn't the same tactic be used on a 2 year old boy? She'd had to wave off the stroke of brilliance off when she realized squirt guns didn't exist in the Muggle world yet, let alone in the Wizarding one.
Righting herself she stood up and dusted off her dress. Persephone hadn't held back when she'd been given the final go ahead for new dresses, and Hermione now wore a brand new blue and white dress, complete with hair ribbons, and patent leather Mary Jane shoes to match.
Castor noticed her book right about then and picked it up with a look of disappointment. "Reading again?" He shook head then held it out to her like a dirty sock. "Why couldn't someone better have shown up, and not just-stuffy-boring-old-you."
"Oh give me that," She said crossly yanking the book from his grasp. Compulsively, she stroked its cover adoringly then tucked it safely into the crook of her arm.
"Barking mad," Castor said, a jellybean falling out as he spoke. Hermione's nose wrinkled at the sight, and she had to bite her tongue from berating him like a dentists daughter.
"Uncle thinks he can bribe me with Candy." Castor said offhand.
"Looks like he's succeeded." Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. "And I suppose you want me to ask you what your big secret is?"
Castor grunted then choked, the large chocolate in his mouth was caught in his windpipe now. Hermione stepped forward and smacked him hard on the back a few times, and candy dropped from him like a human piñata. On cue, Flea scurried forward to plunder the dropped treasure and Castor dropped to his knees to wrestle with him over it.
"Give it here Flea!" Castor shouted while coughing, managing to stuff his pockets with nearly all that had fallen. Red faced and eyes watering, he stood up and blew off the dirty candy that had fallen from his mouth, then stuffed it back in.
"Ugh," Hermione groaned at the sight, feeling more revolted by little boys by the moment. Fleamont lurched at Castor then, and latched onto his leg, positioned to bite.
"Get off!" Castor shouted, shaking his leg all the while. Flea fell backwards, and foil covered candy dropped from Castor despite his attempts to keep them all to himself.
"Not again!" Castor groaned, grabbing to retrieve it it.
Flea all the while had finally seized a fallen piece, and made to stuff it into his mouth wrapper and all. Hermione retrieved it swiftly (it was a choking hazard after-all) and handed it to Castor without any personal interest.
Castor studied her a moment as though the action was an odd one. "You're my secret, of course," he told her stuffing his pockets once more. She narrowed her eyes at him, as though searching him for any traces of value that might provide he kept his word.
"And?" She prompted him to continue.
"And, Mom and Dad are far to busy to notice anything at present but at some point they'll have to be told. If you are really meant to be my cousin."
"Busy trying to get rid of you are they?" she asked innocently.
"Very funny," he answered dryly. "Important business with the Ministry, actually."
Hermione she rolled her eyes at the proud manner in which Castor held himself. She'd already seen and heard enough of him for the day! Taking Fleas hand she turned her back to him, and headed for the house, a cold glass of water was all she wanted right then… maybe even a bit of that silly pumpkin juice the wizards drank would be tasty… unfortunately, Castor followed.
"My parents were already planning on a family dinner this Saturday, so I imagine they'll be told then," he told her from a few steps back. "Uncle says he'll give me anything I want if I keep it to myself you climbed that tree. Mother would think you were completely barbaric had she'd seen you… in any case I told him I'd keep it to myself but I'm still going to call you monkey."
"How wonderful." She said without looking at him. The revelation that she'd be introduced to the family officially in just under 4 days made her feel overwhelmed again. Frankly, she was still recovering from the gratitude of being taken in and given clothes! It all just felt so fast, and final.
Flea growled again and tugged on her skirt as they entered the house through the back door, he wanted to be held again. Though she'd grown used to him clinging to her it still unhinged her nerves to have someone touching her when she was feeling so anxious. Further, having grown up in the college district of downtown London- she was unaccustomed to the patience it took to deal with the constant whine of a two year old. Adult sounds she could understand… anticipate actually. Children were different, much less predictable. The Potter family as a whole- was very noisy actually- compared to the starving dental student life she'd become accustomed to.
As if by cue, Persephone gestured for them to come sit down for a snack, and by the looks of her a chit-chat. Hermione straightened her dress a little compulsively and then dutifully took Flea by the hand again to steer him where they needed to go. He tottered along side of her slower then she hoped and in her anxiousness she chewed her lip so hard she tasted blood. Castor following them all the while, his pockets rustling with wrappers as he went.
"You my dear are a gift from Merlin!" Henry barked out merrily as she came into his view. He rose from his chair as though lifted and gravitated to her coif, marveling over the current state of it. "You'll be the perfect muse for my hair tonic, Sleek Easy!"
"Keep those thoughts to yourself," Persephone said to him batting away his hands, "or she may end up looking like you!" Everyone laughed. Somehow (in the time since Hermione's arrival), Henry had managed to get his wife's permission to resume work on the potion that had caused the disastrous explosion not a week earlier. With renewed vigor and experimentation, Henry's hair was doubling by the day again, despite the fact that he was shaving it morning and night.
"I don't think her hair could get much worst…" Castor supplied.
Hermione rolled her eyes at him, and he stuck out his tongue at her.
"See that Honey, what did I say? Like siblings already." Harry said happily.
Persephone shook her head through a grin.
"Now." Persephone said then cleared her throat. "We should all get on the same page about this weekend. Millie dear, I'll presume since you've been with Cas more then five minutes, he's told you his parents are coming for dinner on Saturday?
"Thanks Aunt Peri." Cas said sourly. Hermione snickered.
"Anytime Cas, and please keep your mouth shut when your chewing. Henry Potter did you really need to give him all of that candy?" Henry didn't answer rather he whisked her into his arms and dipped her playfully, setting a kiss onto her lips. She loosened up only when he refused to lift her without a smile. Castor rolled his eyes but smiled, and Hermione found herself grinning too. The Potters affection for each other was one thing that was just like home. Her parents were the same way in their affections.
"Now," Persephone said clearing her throat. "As we've all discussed separately, my sister Heliotrope will be here an hour early."
"I'll believe that when I see it." Henry muttered.
"She's given me her word." Persephone said in annoyance, "we've been corresponding for days now!"
"Corresponding are you? One letter back from her this morning, and you've sent 6?"
"Never-the-less," Peri said looking harassed, "If you are to pass as our brothers child, it'll be better if she's had a moment to sync up with you before we introduce you to Castors parents… Now we've all gone over Gus, but we will explain that your Mother…"
"Marceline DuBois," Hermione answered promptly.
"and the last living relation on your maternal side…" Peri continued to prompt.
"Cosette DuBois."
"Very good." Persephone smiled gently before rattling on, "passed recently and you were delivered to us quite… unexpectedly as next in line kin for your guardianship."
Hermione licked her lips and looked down at her hands, she felt like a lost soul. The truth of her own heritage whacked out of her grasps, and now she was simply not a real Granger, not a real Potter, not a real Wilkins, or even a DuBois.
"Oh Millie, I need you to be strong." Persephone gushed, reading her mind simply. Hermione flushed, it seemed- that you only needed to be in Peri's presence for her to know what you were thinking. The sheer idea of her thoughts being violated that way when they were her only real freedom at present unhinged her.
Gripping her by the arms Peri pulled her in and kissed her brow, "I understand this isn't a dream come true suddenly being orphaned but you need to know… or more accordingly, hopefully you've noticed we are all so happy to have you."
"Speak for yourself." Castor.
"Just ignore him dear, he's as well equipped as his father in demonstrating empathy." Persephone said.
"Aunty!" Caster groaned then crossed his arms.
"And you'll come to love us, I'm sure of it." Persephone continued to talk over him.
"I'm not trying to seem ungrateful." Hermione told her hurriedly.
"Of course not dear! Henry and I understand what an adjustment this is for you, but you simply can't strike out on your own… "
"No." Hermione agreed sullenly. She tried to avoid looking at Castor who was smacking his lips on a new candy, watching the scene quite unabashedly.
"Now, a few things to know about my sister Heliotrope… we've already gone over her nickname, Helen… " Hermione felt her usually rapt attention for details waver in and out at Peri bustled on through her facts, "and… poor Gus, well on the positive side he's not exactly around to contradict you so you at some point and you won't need to call anyone father unless of course you wanted too…" Hermione watched her lips move, but it was as though being overwhelmed had stoppered her ears from hearing more. Call another man dad? She supposed that if she had to call anyone outside her actual father dad, Henry would be a good enough substitute. Already he'd shown her so much love and loyalty. "Also Helen's been traveling out of country for near a decade so… she's a better alternative to a cover story then I if we had to go that route."
Hermione wasn't sure what the last part of her speech included, but Peri seemed to be temporarily finished talking. She licked her lips and tried to look as though she was on page with everyone else still.
Castor, now fixed her with a pointed look, "Can I tell her, I know, now?"
"I think you just did Honey." Peri told him, not unkindly.
"I know you're from the future," he said unnecessarily. "But I won't tell. Not even my parents."
Hermione felt hot with guilt, begrudgingly she offered her new cousin a smile. Truth-be-told she wasn't entirely comfortable being indebted to someone who could be won over by candy alone. However, she supposed if the Potters could trust Castor so could she.
Hermione needed a moment to let things soak in. "I think I need a walk…" she said heavily.
"That's a lovely idea," Peri said. "Castor could use a walk too." Both children looked ready to argue at being sent off together, but moments later Hermione's bright idea for fresh air away from everyone, included the very person she'd most like to avoid.
oOo
"Stick to the town! If you do end up in the meadow- go no further then the pond!" Peri called out after them as they left out the front gate.
As though he was embarrassed to be caught in public with her, Castor started the walk a full ten feet behind her. Hermione pretended not to notice, and if it weren't for the racket in his pockets she might have forgotten Castor was there at all- because she quickly found herself mesmerized by the beauty of Godric's Hollow.
The town Church and Cemetery stood at the end of their block, and it caught her attention almost immediately. She stopped to gape at it - completely enchanted. Castor walked by her taking the lead without her notice, then continued to walk.
Wrapped in a mysterious fog, the grounds as a whole seemed to hum like she was overhearing something at a far distance away. Also (and it could have been the heat) but she swore she could make out little streams of golden dust, like the rays from the sun were sprinkling over the gravestones.
She found her focus center in on a life-sized statue of a winged angel. It stood dramatically in the shadow of a massive weeping willow. As though alive, the angels head shifted to face Hermione and two single black tears fell in unison down her cheeks and stopped along her bared neck.
"Fancy dying?" Castor shouted from further along the road, Hermione sucked in the breath she was holding to look at him, miraculously he seemed to be waiting for her.
Clutching her chest, she failed to answer back straight away and looked back at the statue. Hermione felt a chill rush down her spine, and she shivered despite the heat.
It was as though she'd imagined the whole thing! The Angel solid as stone now and showed no traces the black tears she'd seen seconds earlier. Further, the fog and golden dust had vanished too.
"Oh come on then!" Castor shouted impatiently. She flushed in frustration. Truly he was a jagged pill to swallow! How could he walk past such a place without the least bit of notice? Maybe it was just ordinary magic to him, she rationalized. With one last look at the twisted iron fences she followed after Castor, finding the rest of the town just as mind-altering.
Godric's Hollow was a mix of magic and non-magic people. Nearly 100 years in the past, Hermione felt riveted by the dated clothes and construction, but she also found herself picking out the Muggles. Suddenly, she felt like a foreigner among them. Her very situation damning her from any chance of going back o the world she'd come from, because to Muggles Time Travel didn't happen in real life.
The magical community on the other hand had accepted her jumping in time as though it wasn't unheard of. Wizards even had a name for her particular kind, and explanation for it. There were even books written on it! Of course for those daring or dumb enough to be exposed…they had all ended badly… but suddenly she felt more synchronized with magic then not.
Castor walked at a clipped pace now. His irritation and boredom shining through like a bull in a china shop. He began kicking at things and pulling leafs from the trees as he walked only to break or trample them. Hermione tried not to look at him but instead turned her attention to the long, winding cobblestone roads. They had groves in them from where the carriage wheels had (over centuries) worn them down, and there were occasional stalls for horses. Horse manure dotted the streets, and with it an odor that hit you as you passed. Hermione chewed her lip. It was all so bizarre that this was to be her life now.
No matter how many days she had been living in the past- it all still seemed like a wild dream to her. Ever mindful of Eloise's warnings about giving herself away, she felt a little relieved to have Castors hustling her along, for without him she might have lingered in the way that one does when they see something truly extraordinary. Already, she felt herself adopting the attitude one takes up at a museum… curious, and objective examinations.
Stepped back from a group of notable Muggle passerby's she shrunk back against a stone wall and she watched agape as the group walked by a flashing Wizards supply display without so much as a blink. Not even a nod at the shopkeeper who stood to it's right!
"How come no ones going into that shop?" She asked Castor, crossing her arms and frowning. She found it rude the way that they'd ignored the shopkeeper.
"Can't see them," Castor said as though it was obvious, narrowing his eyes at her suspiciously. "Magic shops are enchanted so the Muggles look right past them." He regarded her a moment longer, and then the passing group. "Hang on, have you ever even met a Muggle before the other day?"
She assumed he meant the Oliver's (the Muggle family that had found her), and shook her head incredulously at his misinterpretation. Clearly he'd mistaken her surprise in time traveling for surprise toward Muggles. It was no wonder Henry Potter was exploiting the fact with candy!
"Yes, of course I have." She told him without expanding.
"Mph." He wasn't convinced, but his sights had set firmly on the fields now. "Want to go to the pond then? I mean you've seen everything."
"Not the library."
"Library?" He groaned, the word falling from his lips as though the very thought pained him. "You would hold out for the library! …I'll tell you what…" he hedged, " lets go to the meadow now, and the next time your in need of a read, we can sneak back to my house… and have a go at my library."
"You have a library?"
"My parents have a library." He corrected haughtily. "I won't claim I spend time in there unless forced to."
"And it's impressive? I mean it's better then the towns library?"
"Everything about my house is impressive." He told her. It was her turn to snort.
"Fine, I'll hold off on the library. What off the graveyard and that church?"
"You mean to tell me you'd rather go sniffing around people tombs then go out to the meadow? There's a pond we can stick our feet in… to cool off."
"I'm a fan of History." She defended putting her hand on her hip.
"Oh alright. Tomorrow I'll take you to see the dead heads and I'll even show you our family history…how's that? Will you come now? Granddad and Grandmom Potter are buried there, as is the line before them." He closed the gap between them then.
"Fine, lead the way." She agreed shortly, she wouldn't admit to him something he'd suggested interested her but sinking her feet into cold water sounded like heaven just then.
"Thank you Merlin," he exclaimed loudly. Taking her hand to hasten her, he led her back in the direction of the Potters house. Mr. Oliver's farm stood between it and the meadow, and Hermione found her self in his path once more.
"Good afternoon," she said to Martin Oliver. He glared at her and grumbled a highly suspicious hello in return that caused her cousin, Castor burst into laughter.
Dragging her off by the elbow at a trot, he whispered, "you know he can't remember you right?"
"Maybe. Sort of. How exactly is that possible?"
"Why do you care?" He laughed. "He's a Muggle! Just get over talking to him!"
Hermione shrugged loose of his grip on her arm, and looked one last time at the man now turning back for his farm. It was strange to have spent a virtual day in his home and then not to be recognized by him. The sheer feeling of being erased from his memories made the divide between her old world and new one seem wider.
"Come on!" Castor shouted at her, bringing her attention back around to her surroundings. The meadow was a sight to behold! Now (that she wasn't running through it as a means to escape), Hermione was able to see it properly for what it was. Breathtaking.
Hermione let her arms raise up to the sky then fall down to her sides, lavishing in its splendor. It seemed to stretch out forever! No power lines, or building, or cranes. No cars or people or anything visible in the distance. Just rolling fields, and trees- with a hint of the ocean at the horizon.
Land untouched by urban sprawl… her father would have said. Her smile was bittersweet as she acclimatized to the feeling of it. The way the grass rose up to her chest, and brushed up against her as she walked through it after Castor. The adventure such as place offered you was a new and exotic feeling to her.
"Hide and Seek Tag?" Castor yelled back at her. "You're it!" He added taking off before she could argue.
Hermione took off after him, laughing despite herself. So this is what kids did, she thought feeling giddy. Her own parents had always treated her like another adult so naturally she'd begun acting like one.
The Potter family on the other hand, had expected her to act and behave like a child. The large problem with that was, Hermione hadn't any clue what normal kids did!
Feeling slightly ridiculous, she consciously reminded herself to uncoil. She had a friend now… a cousin really, and silly as it was that the two of them were pouncing around like a pair of kittens- it also felt good.
If it weren't for his candy stuffed pockets Castor might have eluded her, for he was much faster then she and the crunch of his footfalls were masked by the sounds of wildlife waking for the evening. Further his hair was the same golden color of the wheat woven into the rich greens of the field. Much more quickly then she could have predicted, Hermione felt herself falling into playing along with Castor as easily as she had with Flea. He was faster then her, but that made catching him more of a triumph, and running from him that much more exciting.
As the sun began to sink in the sky they at last found the pond and stood catching their breaths side by side at it's edge. Ensconced entirely by tall grasses, and trees they watched the ducks on the water and the geese flying overhead.
True to form, Castor ruined the serenity of the moment the second he picked up a rock and chucked it at a duck. Barely missing it, the duck squawked indignantly at him and flew off in an angry manner. Castor laughed at it.
"You're awful!" She told him aghast. "You know that right?"
"Says you? Like I care what you think!"
"What if you'd hit that poor duck?" She implored shrilly, "What did he do to you anyways?"
"He's in my pond! And how do you know it's a boy anyways?"
"His coloring, you idiot! Male ducks are colorful to attract mates." Her father had told her that once in London. "The girls are brown like that one there." She pointed.
With his hands resting on his hips, and his chin thrust up like it was, she thought he look very much like Peter Pan the night he'd lost his shadow. Did that make her Wendy? The title seemed appropriate at present. He seemed far from wanting to grow up as any boy could!
"Know it all." Castor finally accused as he kicked off his shoes and sunk his feet into the water.
"Better than a know nothing," she answered. Castor smirked but said nothing. The heat was still atrocious even in the evening, and bending at the waist she unbuttoned her boots neatly to take them off too. Hermione found herself in that moment wishing she were wearing a swim suit, as opposed to the full dress she wore instead.
"What's it like there?" Castor asked, watching her step into the water, he had finally stopped eating and was seated at the ponds edge, feet in whilst he pulled the grass up in chunks.
"Like night and day." She answered through a frown, watching the devastation of nature wearily. "Girls don't wear ribbons in their hair for starters, or wear big bothersome dresses in heat like this either."
"What do they wear?"
"Same as boys, shorts, and sandals, sleeveless blouses…."
"That's ludicrous, do you live in trees as well?" He laughed.
"Yes, and we live entirely off bananas and hair lice." She said dryly, sitting down beside him. "Ooh-ooh-ah-ah," she deadpanned a monkey call. Castor looked at her impressed, and Hermione felt herself flush. They both laughed.
"Maybe you can be funny." He smiled at her.
Hermione leaned back onto her elbows, and smiled at him. She closed her eyes and let her face drop back so that the setting sun hit it. Her body felt worn out, but not as it had been after the tree. No. She could get used to this feeling.
Hermione realized in that moment, what her previous life hadn't exposed her to. Before coming to this time she'd never even once just sat out in the sun before, never set foot in a Meadow, never played Hide and Seek with a friend… never truly had a friend. Yet now, she was normal as any other child her age, and there wasn't an adult conversation within ear span! Now, she was just siting there- listening to crickets- and watching the birds with a boy she'd be seeing a lot of.
"Do you miss your parents?" Castor asked. Hermione's eyes widened in surprise at his uncharacteristic softness.
"Maybe you do have a heart." She told him with a face of disbelief. He grinned impishly. After a moment she added, "Yes, I miss them very much."
AN: Thanks for reading! Please Review
