Disclaimer: Characters do not belong to me, or else I would be very, very rich.
Author's Notes: The new movie is freaking awesome. Go see it if you haven't already. Then come back and enjoy this chapter;)
Until Such A Time
by Kristen Elizabeth
Emma raced down the corridor, hugging her arms around the precious bundle she carried. This threw her off balance a bit, but she couldn't take any chances. The item was too important. It was the only way to correct her mistakes.
But as much as she needed it, she also hated it. The thing she'd watched the strange man in the dungeon concoct…it was what would take her father away from her for a second time. And Emma wasn't quite sure she was ready to let him go.
A strangled scream pierced her straight through the heart and she came to such a sudden stop that she nearly dropped her cargo. It wasn't male or female; it was something other than human. Something so tortured and twisted that she could actually feel her blood freezing over.
"Oh god," she whispered, looking around. What was lurking up ahead? Or behind her? Or somewhere else entirely? She had no idea where she was within the labyrinth of a castle.
Her best bet was to keep going forward, and she did this with the determination and courage that ran heavily in her veins. She didn't stop running until she reached another set of stairs. But unlike the ones that had taken her down into the dungeon, these steps led up…and over…and down…and up again. Emma frowned as she took them all two at a time. The maze of staircases confused her like nothing ever had before. And just when she was sure she'd gotten used to them, the flight she was ascending lurched to the side without warning.
Emma barely managed to keep from falling back; she clung to the stone railing with one arm for the brief ride and very jerky stop. When it was over, though, she couldn't help but grin.
"That was…fun."
Shaking off the smile, she re-focused her mind on her task. Find her father, send him back to his time, and hope the whole world changed for the better. Simple. Yeah, right.
When she reached the top of the stairs, Emma turned around on the landing, looking for the connecting flight. There was none, just a door in front of her that sat ajar an inch or two, as if it was waiting for her to step through. Taking a breath, she pulled it open enough for her to slip through.
Another corridor. She wanted to stomp her foot in frustration, until she spotted something strange a few yards down the hall. A large portrait frame, large enough for a tall man to step through with room to spare, opened up into the corridor, blocking half of it. The canvas was torn, so there was no way to see what it had once been.
There was something ominous in the air. Emma instinctively recoiled, wanting to turn the other way and run, but it suddenly occurred to her that running was something her father had never done. If she really was fashioned in the Potter mold, she'd better start acting like it. It took another fortifying breath before her feet started moving.
Another strangled cry cut through the silence; she was surprised that none of the castle's actual residents seemed to notice. Perhaps they didn't know about this particular corridor; it did seem a bit run-down. Her walk turned into a jog as she came around the portrait frame and into an open room that had definitely seen better days.
Dust took the shine off of everything, but couldn't hide the triumphant colors of the Gryffindor House. Her parent's House…what might have been her House, too. This had to be the common room her mother had spoken of on the rare occasions when she let herself remember Hogwarts. Emma licked her lips, almost overcome with excitement. Her parents had fallen in love within these very walls.
Her head snapped around as she picked up on voices from somewhere close by. There were two sets of stairs on either side of the room; she took the one closest to her and hoped for the best.
"Hermione…"
She was the only thing on Harry's mind as he came out of the pain of Ron's curse. He blinked to focus, but discovered that his glasses had been knocked off. After fumbling around on the floor for a minute, he found him and pushed them back onto the bridge of his nose.
And that's when he saw her. Crumpled in a heap against the far wall where his own bed had once stood, she lay discarded, as though she meant nothing. He heard sobbing that could only be coming from Mrs. Weasley…because Hermione wasn't moving.
Not even to breathe.
"Hermione," Harry repeated, stronger this time. He staggered to his feet, grasping his wand in his suddenly sweaty hand.
Ron glanced over his shoulder at him. He was still smiling; it sent a chill down Harry's spine. "She won't answer you, Potter. She's…"
Rather than hear the words out loud, he lunged for Ron again with a cry he didn't even recognize as his own. Balling up his fist around his wand, Harry slammed it into Ron's mouth, sending a spray of blood across the floor. Ron doubled over, spitting blood onto the floor.
Harry wanted to kill him. His first friend in the entire world, and he wanted to see him wither away in pain until there was no more light in his eyes, and he never drew breath again. Harry raised his wand, preparing to utter the curse no wizard should ever have to use against a friend.
"Petrificus totalus." The spell was softly spoken, but effective, none the less. Ron's body froze just as he was rising back up. Unable to stay up, he fell to the floor with a great thud.
Molly Weasley wiped away a tear and lowered her wand. "It won't hold him for long, Harry, but we should have time to get out…" She trailed off; Harry wasn't listening. His entire world had shrunk down to the still body of his wife.
Swallowing a lump in her dry throat, she watched him take a few slow steps towards Hermione before he simply couldn't stand anymore. Harry Potter slipped to his knees, hot tears coursing down his cheeks. A moment passed in which Molly couldn't draw breath. She couldn't even blink. All she could do was watch Harry gather Hermione into his arms with another, even more heart-wrenching cry.
She smelled so sweet, Harry thought, pressing his face into the crook of his wife's neck. There was no pulse there, but she was still warm. His tears soaked her robes as he gripped her tighter. The curse Ron had hit him with was nothing compared to the pain of holding his wife's body, knowing that she would never open her eyes again.
"Oh god…Hermione…" His fingers tangled in her hair as he slumped onto his hip, no longer able to support himself on his knees. In this new position, he could draw her even closer, until she was cradled in his lap. "Is this what it was like for you?" he whispered. "When I died…did you want to die, too?"
The floorboards creaked suddenly and Harry's head shot up. Emma stood in the doorway, a cloth-wrapped bundle in her arms and a blank look of shock on her face. He watched her lower lip begin to tremble.
"She's not…" Emma managed to get out. "She's not gone…right? She's just hurt. She needs…" The tears on her father's cheeks caught the light and all of her hope faded away.
Molly rushed to the girl, prepared to embrace her like the eternal mother that she was, but Emma didn't want comfort. She side-stepped the older woman and moved closer to her parents. Her feet dragged a bit, as if her whole body was hesitating. Finally, she stopped. The faintest whimper escaped her lips. "Mummy…"
As much as he wanted to hold onto Hermione forever, his instincts as a father were overwhelming. Only taking the time to lay his wife down, Harry caught his daughter before she fell to the floor sobbing. She fought him at first, but after a moment, she was too grief-stricken to do anything more than cry against his shoulder.
"No!" Emma screamed, pounding his arm with a weak fist. "She can't leave me alone!! I don't want to be alone!"
His tears mixed with his daughter's as he pressed his forehead to hers. "You won't be alone, Emma. You'll never be alone."
"Yes, I will!" She pushed away from him. "You'll leave and I'll be here in this horrible world without anyone!! You get to go back to her, Dad." Emma spat out the word. "I don't!"
"Emma…"
She cut him off by reaching for the bundle that had rolled onto the floor with her. It had half un-wrapped itself; she finished the job and held up an old-cracked bottle filled with a liquid that glowed.
"This will take you back," she told him, still choking on her tears. "I figured it out, but this old man in the dungeon mixed it together. He thought I was you, but he couldn't see me…" She struggled for a breath. "All you have to do is put it on an object…any object, then touch it. And you'll go back. I can't explain it any better than that, because I don't really get it myself." Emma looked her father straight in the eye. "Use it now."
Harry shook his head, surprising himself. "No."
"You have to," she insisted. "You don't belong here."
"Maybe I do," her father countered.
"You don't understand!" Emma stood up, gesturing frantically with her trembling hands. "The spell I did…I didn't know what kind of effect it would have on you. You know those headaches you've been getting." She paused. "Being here is killing you. You know too much about the future; it's making you…deteriorate. You've got to get back to your time before it's too late and there's not enough of you to send back!"
Harry ran his fingers through his hair. "I don't understand any of this, Emma."
"I know. I'm sorry." Her voice was small and child-like. "All of this is my fault. I brought you here." She looked down at her mother's body. "I killed her."
"Don't even think that, young lady," Harry snapped. They both blinked, Harry for suddenly adopting a parent's discipline, and Emma for how weirdly right it felt being disciplined by her father. He shook his head. "I can't leave you alone. You're my daughter."
"Mum would tell you to go, wouldn't she?"
His shoulders sagged a bit and he closed his eyes for a moment. The headache that had been present all day was building up again; it felt much worse now that he knew what was causing it. "She would. I'd fight her, but she'd end up winning."
Emma hugged her arms around her slender frame. "So will I."
Harry glanced over at Molly Weasley, searching for some alternative answer. The woman had none though; she merely nodded at him. She'd be all right; she'd find Remus and her sons and they'd take her to safety. He looked back at his daughter; her eyes were closed now.
Wiping under his glasses, Harry searched for an object. All he could find was the chair Molly had been tied to. Taking Emma's potion, he poured a good amount of it over the wooden seat. He looked back at Hermione's body. "See you soon," he whispered. His gaze moved over to Emma. Her eyes were still tightly shut, trying to block out what was about to happen.
"Emma," he called to her. "You don't have to look at me, but I want you to know something." He smiled. "Even if this doesn't work, and nothing changes, don't apologize for what you tried to do. You gave me a chance to meet you…to see you all grown up. For me, that makes all of this worthwhile."
Harry's fingers had almost reached the chair's seat when he felt two arms wrap around his waist. The sudden jolt forced the contact and the same, dizzy feeling he'd felt before being whisked away into the future enveloped him again. "Emma?"
His daughter held on tight. "Sorry, Dad. I'm coming with you."
They reappeared exactly where they had vanished, namely in the middle of the boy's dormitory of Gryffindor Tower. Being the middle of the day, there were no students around for their sudden entrance. Just three very shocked house elves who were making up the beds. Harry nodded to them. "Good job. Carry on."
Grabbing Emma's hand, he yanked her out of the room and into the winding stone staircase. "Why did you do that?"
Her father's eyes sparked with anger. "I…I just…I don't know. I didn't want to lose you."
Harry couldn't stay angry; his expression fell. "Emma, you've put yourself into the same life-threatening situation that you said I was in, don't you realize?"
"I know." She shook her head. "I don't care. My life is over back there; I have nothing left."
"You have life back there! You'll grow up, you might get married and have children of your own. What will you have here?"
Emma lifted her chin just a bit. "I'll have people to share it all with."
Harry drew in a long, calming breath. "This is not the place to figure this out. I'd like to get out of the castle and Apparate home without being seen."
"I'll be quiet as a mouse," she promised. "I doubt that I'm under the Fidelus here, but no one here wants to kill me so it doesn't really matter, does it?"
"No. No one here wants to kill you." But back in her time, if she walked around without a charm to hide her, she would be walking into her death. Why was he trying to send his daughter back there? Harry gestured down the stairs. "I know some secret passages where neither of us will be seen. Come on."
The common room was also blessedly empty. A fire sparked in the hearth. The furniture looked as comfortable as ever and the banners trailed down from the ceilings in their usual, magnificent manner. This was what Griffyndor Tower should always look like. And if he had any say in the matter, this time around, it would never change.
Twenty minutes later, they stood on the Quidditch pitch. Harry took a moment to savor the sight of the perfectly trimmed green grass before he looked at his daughter. "We'll be going straight home."
Emma tilted her head back, soaking in the sun that never seemed to shine in her own world. "Home." She smiled broadly. "Let's go home."
The Apparation was quick and smooth and they reappeared in front of the cottage. Harry wasted no time going in; Emma had to rush to keep up with him.
"Hermione!" he called out. "Hermione…I'm here!"
A very faint, "Harry," drifted down the hall from the living room. Frowning, Harry took off again, his daughter on his heels. He rounded the corner and stopped short, sending Emma crashing into his back.
"Hermione."
In the middle of the strongest contraction yet, his wife glanced up at him. Sweat beaded her brow. "Love…your timing, as always, is just perfect."
To Be Continued
Author's Notes: The new movie is freaking awesome. Go see it if you haven't already. Then come back and enjoy this chapter;)
Until Such A Time
by Kristen Elizabeth
Emma raced down the corridor, hugging her arms around the precious bundle she carried. This threw her off balance a bit, but she couldn't take any chances. The item was too important. It was the only way to correct her mistakes.
But as much as she needed it, she also hated it. The thing she'd watched the strange man in the dungeon concoct…it was what would take her father away from her for a second time. And Emma wasn't quite sure she was ready to let him go.
A strangled scream pierced her straight through the heart and she came to such a sudden stop that she nearly dropped her cargo. It wasn't male or female; it was something other than human. Something so tortured and twisted that she could actually feel her blood freezing over.
"Oh god," she whispered, looking around. What was lurking up ahead? Or behind her? Or somewhere else entirely? She had no idea where she was within the labyrinth of a castle.
Her best bet was to keep going forward, and she did this with the determination and courage that ran heavily in her veins. She didn't stop running until she reached another set of stairs. But unlike the ones that had taken her down into the dungeon, these steps led up…and over…and down…and up again. Emma frowned as she took them all two at a time. The maze of staircases confused her like nothing ever had before. And just when she was sure she'd gotten used to them, the flight she was ascending lurched to the side without warning.
Emma barely managed to keep from falling back; she clung to the stone railing with one arm for the brief ride and very jerky stop. When it was over, though, she couldn't help but grin.
"That was…fun."
Shaking off the smile, she re-focused her mind on her task. Find her father, send him back to his time, and hope the whole world changed for the better. Simple. Yeah, right.
When she reached the top of the stairs, Emma turned around on the landing, looking for the connecting flight. There was none, just a door in front of her that sat ajar an inch or two, as if it was waiting for her to step through. Taking a breath, she pulled it open enough for her to slip through.
Another corridor. She wanted to stomp her foot in frustration, until she spotted something strange a few yards down the hall. A large portrait frame, large enough for a tall man to step through with room to spare, opened up into the corridor, blocking half of it. The canvas was torn, so there was no way to see what it had once been.
There was something ominous in the air. Emma instinctively recoiled, wanting to turn the other way and run, but it suddenly occurred to her that running was something her father had never done. If she really was fashioned in the Potter mold, she'd better start acting like it. It took another fortifying breath before her feet started moving.
Another strangled cry cut through the silence; she was surprised that none of the castle's actual residents seemed to notice. Perhaps they didn't know about this particular corridor; it did seem a bit run-down. Her walk turned into a jog as she came around the portrait frame and into an open room that had definitely seen better days.
Dust took the shine off of everything, but couldn't hide the triumphant colors of the Gryffindor House. Her parent's House…what might have been her House, too. This had to be the common room her mother had spoken of on the rare occasions when she let herself remember Hogwarts. Emma licked her lips, almost overcome with excitement. Her parents had fallen in love within these very walls.
Her head snapped around as she picked up on voices from somewhere close by. There were two sets of stairs on either side of the room; she took the one closest to her and hoped for the best.
"Hermione…"
She was the only thing on Harry's mind as he came out of the pain of Ron's curse. He blinked to focus, but discovered that his glasses had been knocked off. After fumbling around on the floor for a minute, he found him and pushed them back onto the bridge of his nose.
And that's when he saw her. Crumpled in a heap against the far wall where his own bed had once stood, she lay discarded, as though she meant nothing. He heard sobbing that could only be coming from Mrs. Weasley…because Hermione wasn't moving.
Not even to breathe.
"Hermione," Harry repeated, stronger this time. He staggered to his feet, grasping his wand in his suddenly sweaty hand.
Ron glanced over his shoulder at him. He was still smiling; it sent a chill down Harry's spine. "She won't answer you, Potter. She's…"
Rather than hear the words out loud, he lunged for Ron again with a cry he didn't even recognize as his own. Balling up his fist around his wand, Harry slammed it into Ron's mouth, sending a spray of blood across the floor. Ron doubled over, spitting blood onto the floor.
Harry wanted to kill him. His first friend in the entire world, and he wanted to see him wither away in pain until there was no more light in his eyes, and he never drew breath again. Harry raised his wand, preparing to utter the curse no wizard should ever have to use against a friend.
"Petrificus totalus." The spell was softly spoken, but effective, none the less. Ron's body froze just as he was rising back up. Unable to stay up, he fell to the floor with a great thud.
Molly Weasley wiped away a tear and lowered her wand. "It won't hold him for long, Harry, but we should have time to get out…" She trailed off; Harry wasn't listening. His entire world had shrunk down to the still body of his wife.
Swallowing a lump in her dry throat, she watched him take a few slow steps towards Hermione before he simply couldn't stand anymore. Harry Potter slipped to his knees, hot tears coursing down his cheeks. A moment passed in which Molly couldn't draw breath. She couldn't even blink. All she could do was watch Harry gather Hermione into his arms with another, even more heart-wrenching cry.
She smelled so sweet, Harry thought, pressing his face into the crook of his wife's neck. There was no pulse there, but she was still warm. His tears soaked her robes as he gripped her tighter. The curse Ron had hit him with was nothing compared to the pain of holding his wife's body, knowing that she would never open her eyes again.
"Oh god…Hermione…" His fingers tangled in her hair as he slumped onto his hip, no longer able to support himself on his knees. In this new position, he could draw her even closer, until she was cradled in his lap. "Is this what it was like for you?" he whispered. "When I died…did you want to die, too?"
The floorboards creaked suddenly and Harry's head shot up. Emma stood in the doorway, a cloth-wrapped bundle in her arms and a blank look of shock on her face. He watched her lower lip begin to tremble.
"She's not…" Emma managed to get out. "She's not gone…right? She's just hurt. She needs…" The tears on her father's cheeks caught the light and all of her hope faded away.
Molly rushed to the girl, prepared to embrace her like the eternal mother that she was, but Emma didn't want comfort. She side-stepped the older woman and moved closer to her parents. Her feet dragged a bit, as if her whole body was hesitating. Finally, she stopped. The faintest whimper escaped her lips. "Mummy…"
As much as he wanted to hold onto Hermione forever, his instincts as a father were overwhelming. Only taking the time to lay his wife down, Harry caught his daughter before she fell to the floor sobbing. She fought him at first, but after a moment, she was too grief-stricken to do anything more than cry against his shoulder.
"No!" Emma screamed, pounding his arm with a weak fist. "She can't leave me alone!! I don't want to be alone!"
His tears mixed with his daughter's as he pressed his forehead to hers. "You won't be alone, Emma. You'll never be alone."
"Yes, I will!" She pushed away from him. "You'll leave and I'll be here in this horrible world without anyone!! You get to go back to her, Dad." Emma spat out the word. "I don't!"
"Emma…"
She cut him off by reaching for the bundle that had rolled onto the floor with her. It had half un-wrapped itself; she finished the job and held up an old-cracked bottle filled with a liquid that glowed.
"This will take you back," she told him, still choking on her tears. "I figured it out, but this old man in the dungeon mixed it together. He thought I was you, but he couldn't see me…" She struggled for a breath. "All you have to do is put it on an object…any object, then touch it. And you'll go back. I can't explain it any better than that, because I don't really get it myself." Emma looked her father straight in the eye. "Use it now."
Harry shook his head, surprising himself. "No."
"You have to," she insisted. "You don't belong here."
"Maybe I do," her father countered.
"You don't understand!" Emma stood up, gesturing frantically with her trembling hands. "The spell I did…I didn't know what kind of effect it would have on you. You know those headaches you've been getting." She paused. "Being here is killing you. You know too much about the future; it's making you…deteriorate. You've got to get back to your time before it's too late and there's not enough of you to send back!"
Harry ran his fingers through his hair. "I don't understand any of this, Emma."
"I know. I'm sorry." Her voice was small and child-like. "All of this is my fault. I brought you here." She looked down at her mother's body. "I killed her."
"Don't even think that, young lady," Harry snapped. They both blinked, Harry for suddenly adopting a parent's discipline, and Emma for how weirdly right it felt being disciplined by her father. He shook his head. "I can't leave you alone. You're my daughter."
"Mum would tell you to go, wouldn't she?"
His shoulders sagged a bit and he closed his eyes for a moment. The headache that had been present all day was building up again; it felt much worse now that he knew what was causing it. "She would. I'd fight her, but she'd end up winning."
Emma hugged her arms around her slender frame. "So will I."
Harry glanced over at Molly Weasley, searching for some alternative answer. The woman had none though; she merely nodded at him. She'd be all right; she'd find Remus and her sons and they'd take her to safety. He looked back at his daughter; her eyes were closed now.
Wiping under his glasses, Harry searched for an object. All he could find was the chair Molly had been tied to. Taking Emma's potion, he poured a good amount of it over the wooden seat. He looked back at Hermione's body. "See you soon," he whispered. His gaze moved over to Emma. Her eyes were still tightly shut, trying to block out what was about to happen.
"Emma," he called to her. "You don't have to look at me, but I want you to know something." He smiled. "Even if this doesn't work, and nothing changes, don't apologize for what you tried to do. You gave me a chance to meet you…to see you all grown up. For me, that makes all of this worthwhile."
Harry's fingers had almost reached the chair's seat when he felt two arms wrap around his waist. The sudden jolt forced the contact and the same, dizzy feeling he'd felt before being whisked away into the future enveloped him again. "Emma?"
His daughter held on tight. "Sorry, Dad. I'm coming with you."
They reappeared exactly where they had vanished, namely in the middle of the boy's dormitory of Gryffindor Tower. Being the middle of the day, there were no students around for their sudden entrance. Just three very shocked house elves who were making up the beds. Harry nodded to them. "Good job. Carry on."
Grabbing Emma's hand, he yanked her out of the room and into the winding stone staircase. "Why did you do that?"
Her father's eyes sparked with anger. "I…I just…I don't know. I didn't want to lose you."
Harry couldn't stay angry; his expression fell. "Emma, you've put yourself into the same life-threatening situation that you said I was in, don't you realize?"
"I know." She shook her head. "I don't care. My life is over back there; I have nothing left."
"You have life back there! You'll grow up, you might get married and have children of your own. What will you have here?"
Emma lifted her chin just a bit. "I'll have people to share it all with."
Harry drew in a long, calming breath. "This is not the place to figure this out. I'd like to get out of the castle and Apparate home without being seen."
"I'll be quiet as a mouse," she promised. "I doubt that I'm under the Fidelus here, but no one here wants to kill me so it doesn't really matter, does it?"
"No. No one here wants to kill you." But back in her time, if she walked around without a charm to hide her, she would be walking into her death. Why was he trying to send his daughter back there? Harry gestured down the stairs. "I know some secret passages where neither of us will be seen. Come on."
The common room was also blessedly empty. A fire sparked in the hearth. The furniture looked as comfortable as ever and the banners trailed down from the ceilings in their usual, magnificent manner. This was what Griffyndor Tower should always look like. And if he had any say in the matter, this time around, it would never change.
Twenty minutes later, they stood on the Quidditch pitch. Harry took a moment to savor the sight of the perfectly trimmed green grass before he looked at his daughter. "We'll be going straight home."
Emma tilted her head back, soaking in the sun that never seemed to shine in her own world. "Home." She smiled broadly. "Let's go home."
The Apparation was quick and smooth and they reappeared in front of the cottage. Harry wasted no time going in; Emma had to rush to keep up with him.
"Hermione!" he called out. "Hermione…I'm here!"
A very faint, "Harry," drifted down the hall from the living room. Frowning, Harry took off again, his daughter on his heels. He rounded the corner and stopped short, sending Emma crashing into his back.
"Hermione."
In the middle of the strongest contraction yet, his wife glanced up at him. Sweat beaded her brow. "Love…your timing, as always, is just perfect."
To Be Continued