The Perennial State
by
Padfootz-luvr
Disclaimer: Nothing you recognize is mine.
Full Summary: For the life of her, Hermione had no idea where she had landed.Hermione, Ron, and Harry are escaping Death Eaters by broomstick, the summer before their 7th year, when Hermione is hit with an unknown curse, and falls into a mysterious wood. "This is private property." There she is found by a young man who claims to be someone she once knew...SBHG, loosely based on themes found in J. M. Barry's Peter Pan.
A/N: I love you guys! Your reviews are basically my sustenance. Thanks so much, all of you, for reading and taking the time to respond. The fairy thing...Hmm, assuming you are referring to the clingy fairy that more or less stalks Hermione every time she goes outside, then yes. It isn't central to the plot (more like representative), but it will be a revealing point much later on. ;) Keep speculating, my dears. Song: "Honey and the Moon", by Joseph Arthur...highly recommended.
--
"But right now, everything you want is wrong
and right now, all your dreams are waking up…"
--
The next day Hermione threw herself into the library early, before anyone else was awake, and began desperately searching for reasons why she would be forgetting details of her past.
The night before, she had tried to visualize the color of Ron's eyes, and had come up blank. She had tried to remember the differences in appearance, between Harry and James, and couldn't. When she tried to picture Harry, she pictured James, with differently colored eyes.
Hermione tore books from the shelves hurriedly, only half-glancing at titles, and began scanning the pages at a frantic pace.
A while, she heard Mr. Potter setting up breakfast, but took no heed.
She knew that they would all be wondering as to her whereabouts, but at the moment the only thing that seemed important was that she couldn't remember the expression on Harry's face when he won he played Quidditch. She was sure he must have looked happy, but the fact that she couldn't recall such details about her best friends was beyond disconcerting: it was horrifying.
After hours of finding no helpful information, on memory or time travel, Hermione had dissolved into mild hysterics, and was still turning the tear-stained page of a book on memory loss while simultaneously trying to recall the moment she had met Harry and Ron.
--
Mrs. Potter had been briskly scouring the halls and various rooms for Hermione after she did not come to breakfast, and then made no appearance at lunch. She had sent Sirius and James outside, asking them to keep an eye out for the young witch, while internally worrying a great deal.
She heard agonized sobs coming from the library, and hurried in to see Hermione surrounded by dozens of large volumes, crying uncontrollably.
Hermione heard the footsteps and tried to breath, to pull herself together; she was unaccustomed to being seen in such disarray.
But the moment that Mrs. Potter kneeled on the floor beside her, gathering the young girl into her arms, Hermione wept once again, for all she had lost.
Mrs. Potter advised Hermione to take several long, lingering breaths. Hermione complied, immediately calming; she told Mrs. Potter of her disappearing memory.
Mrs. Potter frowned, but brushed the younger witch's brown curls from her warm cheeks soothingly. The two moved to the armchairs beside the stagnant fireplace, and Mrs. Potter politely asked the books to return to their original places. They all obeyed immediately, and James's mother looked at Hermione thoughtfully.
"Why don't you tell me some stories about Harry and Ron?"
Hermione looked startled. "Wh-what?"
Smiling, Mrs. Potter elaborated. "I'm sure you three must have had a fair few adventures together. One day you will be able to tell them about this one you are having right now." Hermione considered this: would she really ever be able to tell Harry that she had been able to know his long-gone family, when he had not? "But for now, why don't you tell me about some of the escapades you three have been through. It will help take your mind off of things, and it might even help you remember them. Besides…" Mrs. Potter leaned in, smiling sadly. "I would like to get to know this Harry Potter a little better, even if it is through stories."
Hermione nodded. She stared into the empty fireplace, then closed her eyes, trying to remember. She would not tell any details…they would be just like fairy stories from when she was a little girl, but with Harry, Ron, and herself as the heroes, and their various foes. She would have to change some names, of course…
Hermione opened her eyes, and began telling the story of how she and two eleven-year-old boys defeated the mountain troll that had been sent by an evil man into the enchanted castle.
She pictured each scene in her mind with rich detail, and supplied what she could not remember. She changed names, places, and villains; she simplified the tale from the original event, but she did not change the heart of the piece. The defeat of the troll was the event that had lead to her friendship with the two boys.
Hermione and Mrs. Potter were so entranced with the tale that neither noticed a tall boy enter the room until the story was complete. Sirius stared from his place across the room; he was leaning against a bookshelf, trying to appear casual but obviously mesmerized.
Mrs. Potter beckoned him over to them, about to ask Hermione for another tale. Hermione, however, had already begun to remember more details about her past, their future; she had no intention of stopping her stories anytime soon.
Sirius settled onto the floor beside Hermione, leaning against her armchair and staring blankly into the fireplace as she spoke of a great basilisk that slumbered in the belly of a castle, and the enchanted diary that controlled it.
He distractedly traced the serpent's outline in the carpet, adding more detail as Hermione fleshed out her villain and his weapon.
Mrs. Potter watched Hermione carefully, aware that the younger witch was changing the details for safety's sake, but also aware that a great deal of the story had happened—or, it would happen.
The sky outside the great arched windows of the library was painted a deep magenta, and then violet, and then a deep indigo as the first stars appeared.
The three did not move to leave the library, though, as Hermione found herself recalling more and more while unintentionally entrancing her small audience.
As Hermione's second, longer tale came to a close, Sirius leaned against her leg gently, silently asking her to continue. She seemed to come out of a trance, and looked down at Sirius as if she was only just realizing her was there.
"It's nearly dinner. We should go downstairs," Mrs. Potter said softly, breaking the contented silence. She was looking at Hermione as if she had never seen the girl before. "You haven't eaten anything at all today, dear. And we'll be missed."
Sirius nodded reluctantly, standing and turning to Hermione, who was gazing at the newly fallen night in surprise. She looked up at him, and he held out a hand to assist her out of the chair. She gladly accepted, stretching her cramped muscled as she unfurled timidly.
Mrs. Potter had already left the room, and they could hear her disappearing footsteps.
Sirius opened his mouth to say something, but Hermione interrupted him. "We should go downstairs."
Her companion sighed in dissatisfaction, but nodded and followed her downstairs.
--
James and Mr. Potter did not ask where they had all been, but watched them carefully. Hermione sat next to Sirius, all but ignoring everyone else. The two exchanged very few words, but Mrs. Potter noticed that Sirius made sure to brush Hermione's hands every time a plate was passed.
The older witch smiled gently at the pair, and turned to see that her husband was also watching their strange exchanges. She leaned in and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, which he returned automatically, looking at her lovingly.
After supper, Hermione retired to her bedroom in exhaustion. Sometime just barely past midnight, an insistent knocking sounded on her door. She rolled sleepily out of the large bed, padding across the floor. Just as she was about to grasp the handle, the door opened just enough for a hand to grab her and pull her through. Hermione's first instinct was to run, but then she recognized the tall silhouette that was pulling her down the hall none too gently.
"Sirius, what are you—"
He hushed her and opened the door to the Astronomy room, pushing her first. He shut the door behind him, enclosing them in utter darkness.
She sighed, crossing her arms and waiting for her eyes to adjust. She belatedly wished that she were wearing more than just one of Sirius's old shirts, and was suddenly quite thankful for the utter darkness of the room.
"Watch the sky." His hands found their way to her hips and he lightly pulled her into a sitting position on the rich carpet. Hermione did not protest, in her half-waking state, even as he gently forced her to lie on her back. She felt him copy her position beside her, and they both stared at the enchanted ceiling in anticipation.
Anticipation of what?
Her internal question was answered as a brightly colored streak crossed the velvet ceiling brilliantly, followed by another, and then another. They were brighter and more beautiful than the most fantastic magical fireworks, and they were spilling across the sky as though someone was blowing tufts of dandelion across the night sky. Hermione knew that this shower was happening millions of light years away, and that they would not have been able to see it with such brilliance with even the most powerful telescope in the world.
She turned her head, cushioned by her buoyant curls, to Sirius. He was watching her carefully, his pale eyes reflecting the dazzling incandescence above them, but his eyes were tracing the features of her face purposefully. She smiled her thanks, and turned back to the beautiful display. There were so many streaks of colored light continuously spilling across the ceiling that it could have been the child of the auroras.
The room itself was illuminated gently, and Hermione felt suddenly self-conscious of her exposed body and tangled hair. She sat up, pulling the hem of the large shirt down further.
Sirius chuckled softly at her uneasiness, and he leaned forward, his lips at her ear. "You look beautiful."
"Everyone looks beautiful by starlight," whispered Hermione. She stood, turning to leave, but Sirius shot in front of her, blocking the exit.
"Stay," he murmured. His eyes glanced to the beautiful ceiling, his pleading expression illuminated by the streaks of light that he saw there. "Stay here with me. Just for a while."
Hermione considered it, biting her lip as she stared at the door past his shoulder. Her eyes locked with his, and she nodded.
They fell back onto the heavily cushioned floor lightly, watching the colors change and the monumental shower recede and then surge, in pulsing swells. The sky outside the room lightened as Hermione fell into a light slumber, her head cushioned on Sirius's arm. Sirius gazed at her for a while, observing the way the colored light reflected off of her pale cheeks, until he too closed his eyes in much-needed sleep.
--
Mrs. Potter checked the library first, when Hermione did not come down to breakfast for the second day in a row. Finding it deserted, she headed up the stairs on her way to Hermione's room, but paused on her son and Sirius's landing. Hesitating, she contemplated continuing without checking the bedroom, but then pushed all thoughts aside and made her way to the door, opening without knocking. That room, too, was devoid of either teenager; in fact, the bed, though unmade, looked as though it had not been slept in at all.
The witch continued up the stairs and rapped on Hermione's door. Hearing no answer, she opened the door to the meticulously clean room. The bed, however, looked very slept-in. She continued to the open bathroom door, but again found no sign of the girl.
She tried not to worry: they might have gone off to the woods, as they had before. But she has her wand, what would they be looking for?
She turned and strode down the hall, about to continue down to the kitchen, when she remembered the Astronomy room. Mrs. Potter knew that her surrogate son often spent time there, either when he was unable to sleep or when he wanted to be alone.
Quietly, the witch opened the silent door, and peered in, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dimness. The sunlight from the hallway poured in, illuminating the sleeping couple on the floor. Smiling, Mrs. Potter briefly wondered if they had fallen asleep in that position or if they had moved in their slumber. She left the room, trying not to wake them, and shut the door.
She met her son halfway down the stairs; he had been on his way up.
"Come on, darling, let's go to breakfast," said Mrs. Potter, smiling sweetly.
"Hold on, Sirius probably fell asleep in the Astronomy room again," replied James, continuing up the stairs.
His mother laid a gentle hand on his arm, steering him back down. "He did; let them sleep."
"'Them?'" James echoed in surprise. He turned to look at the door as though he expected "them" to both emerge any minute.
"I said 'him', dear, you must be tired still," said Mrs. Potter, a look of concern gracing her aging features. She pulled her son downstairs, not noticing the Astronomy room's door open a crack, or seeing a curly head of hair hurry down the hallway.
--
Hermione heard the door click closed, and opened her eyes into the absolute darkness. It was awfully early for Mrs. Potter to be looking in on her, she thought.
She shifted in her position, but her muscles protested stiffly. Stifling a yawn, Hermione wondered vaguely why she felt as though she were laying on carpet…
Then she recalled the night's escapades. She sat up sharply, ignoring her griping neck and shoulders, and looked up. The night sky that showed was peaceful, full of twinkling stars and shining galaxies, but it held none of the splendor from before.
She heard a quiet groan from her side, and glanced at Sirius's outline on the floor; she had forgotten he was there with her. She realized with a blush that she had been laying on his chest, and was thankful that he had apparently been asleep as well and did not realize.
His figure sat up as well, rubbing a hand across his face bewilderedly. His eyes were well adjusted to the dark, and he saw Hermione beside him plainly. "'Morning," yawned Sirius, stretching.
"'Morning," muttered Hermione instinctively. Hermione stood and made her way to the door in time to hear Mrs. Potter talking to James on the stairs. At James's words, she glanced back at Sirius. "Do you often sleep in here?"
Sirius nodded, forgetting she could not see him as clearly as he saw her. "Yeah. Most mornings, if I'm not in my room or the kitchen, James comes looking for me here."
Hermione nodded absentmindedly. She continued to listen to the conversation outside, wincing as James caught Mrs. Potter's slip, then internally cheering at the older witch's brilliant save. She heard their footsteps die away, and opened the door, checking to see if the coast was clear. "See you later!" she whispered back to Sirius as she slipped out, heading to her room for a shower and a change of clothes.
Sirius stood slowly, heading toward his own room; he was trying to forget that he had just had what was the best night's sleep, for him, in ages.
--
"Don't know why I'm still afraid,
if you weren't real I would make you up..."
--
Feedback is wonderful, and so are you. Thanks for reading!