Chapter Sixteen – "In Theory"

September 2008

Hermione shuffled her papers into her folder, tucked them under her arm and left the room, nodding to a couple of the people sat in the outer office at the Ministry. She still worked there, but on a much more part time basis. Fleur and herself had managed a comprehensive study on the families of interest to them, finding a couple of descendants that had no idea of their ancestry and fortunately no magical ability either. They had descended from one of the two children of the John Massey Hermione met in 1832; the other child became Jane Howard's line. However, the Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt was so impressed with their work that he wanted their mini department kept open. Often Hermione or Fleur were called to another department to give their opinions on anything from criminal activity, to some of the strange things in the Department of Mysteries.

The part time nature of her work suited Hermione very well. She had time to herself, time for Ginny and perhaps for the first time, to just live, as life rumbled on around her. She had nothing to prove to anyone, least of all to herself. She kept her promise to Minerva McGonagall at Hogwarts and occasionally visited for special lessons, or talks to various groups of students and she much preferred that way of teaching than being a full time teacher. She felt she could have more impact than she ever could as an ordinary Hogwarts professor.

Ginny had gone back to the Harpies, but was now a player-coach, specifically training chasers and seekers, and it had rejuvenated her love of quidditch, for at least one more season, anyway.

The former Gryffindor Head Girl, former Ministry Law Enforcer, former Hogwarts Professor for Defence Against the Dark Arts and lately Ministry special agent – which Ron called her – had now reached a point where she could look at other interests and have time for it.

She had gone a long way to overcome her anxiety and panic attacks again; after everything, she believed in herself, and others believed in her. She had started to address things almost immediately, spurred on by the love she had felt from those closest to her.

She had experienced many things in her life and in the past year, but she had been drawn to one thing time and again, and when she got spare moments, when Ginny was at training and she had nothing else to do on any given day, she could be found at a room in a library. Nothing was strange about finding Hermione in a library, nor would Fleur nor the Ministry find it odd that she spent a lot of time in a library in Halifax, as it held a lot of records on the surrounding villages, and she had had to search records there a few times in the last few months, to chase up births and deaths for her work. However, her frequent returns now would possibly raise questions from all except Ginny, that she had spent hours reading Anne Lister's diaries. She knew she was perhaps spending too much time over them, but she couldn't stop her thirst for the words within them.

She learned the code, which was fairly simple to grasp, with the handwriting being more difficult, but her parents were dentists and all medical professions had appalling handwriting, so this was no barrier to her.

Initially, Hermione read pages that related to the time they had been there in 1832, translating the coded bits and checking them with one of the books that covered a lot of 1832. Nothing was out of place. In fact it was almost dull for that week or two around their visit, which meant Anne had indeed kept the oath she had made.

She moved onto the time, not many weeks later, when Anne had courted Ann Walker, but in a strange way she felt like she was intruding, and only picked out pieces here and there and went to 1834 for the time they technically married. It saddened her to see that Anne had her doubts right up to that time and not long after they had married. And it became a repeated theme, of Anne wondering how she could get rid of Ann Walker, or let her leave.

As disconcerted as Hermione was at the imperfect relationship she was reading about, she thought about something she had told Ginny: that Anne wrote in her diary as a release of tension. Once it was all on the page, it was out of her mind and she remained calm on the outside. Hermione had actually been amused the few times she read that Anne complained of Ann's snoring and the times she pretended to be asleep when Ann felt amorous or wanted pity; it made her think of some of the times she had pretended to be asleep to Ginny, usually after a small disagreement. She's not so different to anyone else, she thought of Anne Lister. What became apparent were two observations; one that Anne Lister couldn't go through with ending things with Ann Walker because she needed the money badly, and secondly, which seemed possible both in conjunction with the money, but underlying it all: Anne loved Ann. She might have written that she didn't know how Ann would manage without her and that Ann would be bored and lonely by herself, but in fact Anne couldn't leave her, or let her leave either. As she had said in the early days, there was something that made her keep going back, and it was beyond money or control.

Having left work for the day at lunch time, Hermione stopped for a sandwich and a coffee at a cafe near the Ministry, before making her way to Halifax Library again. The staff knew her well now, and they showed her to a room to carry on her research.

The past few weeks Hermione had been delving into the diary that covered 1840, known as 'Diary 24'. It was mostly travel notes and often disjointed entries, where Anne had so obviously not had time, or means, to write about things on the actual days they happened and wrote things up later.

Something had drawn Hermione to occasionally look to the last entries in August 1840; the last entries known to have survived before Anne died, supposedly of a fever, possibly from a tick. In 1840s Georgia, or 1840s anywhere, the term fever could have meant so many things. Whatever the case, it saddened Hermione, how things just ended up in the air, still full of optimism to what they might see next, but just cut off.

Today she was looking at June and July entries for 1840, trying to piece together a travel log of dates, and once more she reread the last few pages in August again.

Ginny always knew what Hermione had been reading when she got home, and today was no different. As they got ready for bed, Hermione was a little distracted.

"August 1840 again?" she asked, with no humour.

"Yeah," said Hermione. "How was your day?"

"Not bad, a couple of the new signings look close to getting a game," Ginny then wrapped her arms around Hermione. "Are you really okay?"

Hermione softened and leaned into her partner. "Yeah."

"I always know you've read it, you're incredibly sad. And that's okay, I just wish I could help you."

"I think it will always sadden me, like the broken pieces of her gravestone and the uncertain and unmarked location of her coffin in the church." Hermione sighed. "I shouldn't obsess and I can't change anything, but it always saddens me. It did before I met her and it's only more profoundly felt since we did meet her. I think...she helped me on to the road to getting better with the anxiety. In fact I know she did."

"I know," replied Ginny.

"Oh...shit, I don't mean you didn't help," Hermione said, guiltily. "You have been here for me every time. I..."

"She helped you," said Ginny, "And I thank her for it. You had both of us to talk to, perhaps without even realizing how it was that she helped too. I think she helped you to believe in yourself again and to trust yourself. Panic attacks were just another part of the package, another part of you."

"I'm not sure she could ever imagine what our lives were like, or what jobs it is that either of us do, let alone the fact we lowered ourselves to working at all, but she saw through what I needed to do."

"Exactly," said her wife. "Sometimes we all need a different ear to whisper into, or state things to. And when you think about it, that was one hell of person to confide in."

Hermione smiled. "She is...was, certainly that, and more."

"As we've said before, it could be said she died while doing something she loved: travelling to unusual places and meeting unusual people, with Ann along with her. That seems better than kicking the bucket asleep in bed on a very normal day."

"It does when you put it that way, and I don't even know what would make it better, at all," said a slightly exasperated Hermione. "It just gets to me."

"Maybe take a break from the diaries?" suggested Ginny. "They're not going anywhere."

"I can't," said Hermione. "Perhaps, if I get this last couple of months read properly, then I'll leave them for a while."

"I know we've been there more than most, but you can't live in the past,"said Ginny with a wry smile. "You have to keep living your life too."

"I know," the brunette replied. "You're not losing me to ghosts. Nor to madness. I think it's all from our time-travelling exploits. It's made me question those key moments and decisions that people choose. I know it's futile to wonder if something were different, but in some cases it stays with me longer. I don't know...maybe I've been looking at deaths too much lately. I think she helped my anxiety, but now I'm depressed."

"I can see how it would prey on you," Ginny said softly. "You never do anything by halves and this whole project you've been on has been deep."

"I think perhaps I do need a break."

"Might I suggest a few days away somewhere else?"

"You would be there too!?" said a worried Hermione.

"Of course," Ginny smiled. "I can get a few days off during any week, I choose. I'm semi-management."

"Semi-management." Hermione laughed. "I like that!"

"It's not quite as grand as 'Special Agent'."

"That's not official, you know. It's just your brother calling me that, and a few others stuck with it. Fleur's called that too."

"I've always thought you're special," said Ginny, looking steadily into her wife's eyes, then Hermione kissed her.

What started as a gentle slow kiss, deepened, into a need of connection; to caress desire with the emotion of love, with every action. With her fingers deep inside Ginny, punctuating time with kisses to lips and jaw, neck and breasts, Hermione looked straight into her wife's eyes as she felt her climax. Faster than she thought possible, Ginny had flipped Hermione and settled between her thighs, her tongue and fingers taking very little time to push her partner over the edge.

They spent a while lying facing each other, their legs entwined, occasionally leaning forward to kiss, but ultimately finding a sated sleep.

After her chat with Ginny, Hermione had set herself the rest of the week through to the following Monday afternoon to finish reading May to July 1840 of Anne Lister's diary, for the days she had so far missed out. There was nothing urgent at the Ministry and she wound down to four half days of work and none the following week so they could have a break, the rest of the working time was spent in Halifax library with 'Diary 24'.

Among some of the coded pieces included lots more of Anne talking of separating from Ann, though the reluctance was clear to read. It wouldn't be Ann Walker that struggled to cope without her as much as round the other way. As much as she complained that Ann was 'always at my elbow' she would miss her a lot if she wasn't there any more. Hermione thought Anne would even miss the moody silences and tears. She had obviously not followed their subtle advice on constipation, but it had made Hermione stifle a laugh reading the entry for 7 May, when Anne had killed a flea she found in her 'drawers'. Oh rest in peace little flea, she thought amused, you should be honoured, you're in code, and you got into Anne Lister's pants.

She had enjoyed a lot of the travel part of the diary, seeing in her mind the places that few people could access, even in modern times, and places that no longer existed in the same way, but she had some problems cross referencing places, either due to Anne's poor spelling of local names, or places now known by different names, or all of the above. The time it took to travel from one place to another seemed to take an age, in carriages and through places that could only use the term 'road' in its vaguest form. Are we lucky or cursed that we can travel nearly anywhere within a few hours? A lot less with magical folk, she thought, wistfully.

Hermione put away her notebooks, and without reading the last August entries this time, left the library to go home.

Ginny and Hermione had decided to go to London and stay at the house belonging to a friend of Ginny's at the Harpies, from the boardroom staff. They had been there several times over the years. It was a very spacious muggle house, in a muggle street in the Victoria area of London, a short walk from Victoria Station,.

With their enchanted bags, both could pack everything and anything they might need and it made them both think they would never be able to go back to muggle luggage completely, because they had grown so used to packing everything they wanted with no space or weight limits.

"Are you ready?" Ginny called up the stairs, early on the Tuesday morning.

"Almost," came the reply from downstairs, instead. Hermione then walked through to the hall putting a book into her beaded bag. "Just grabbed a couple of books, from the study."

"All set?"

"Yes," said Hermione, taking her wife's hand and leading them through to the back garden.

Arriving at the house early in the morning in Victoria, provided the maximum chance that their arrival wouldn't be seen. It was a large tall thin house – which looked like every other house in the street - with every feature and comfort they could ever want; they always enjoyed staying there, with their friend always insisting that he pay for nearly everything of their stay, leaving Oyster travel cards and even credit cards for them to use. It gave the impression he lived there more than he did, which appeared to make him very happy; of course, everyone assumed it was a tax dodge, but no one cared too much with the very nice arrangements.

"I wonder how much this place would sell for now?" said Hermione. "London property values are so inflated."

"I don't know much about property values," said Ginny, putting some clothes into a wardrobe, to let any creases drop. "I'm sure it's an investment or a tax dodge. He hardly ever comes here, nor his family. It's mostly friends that get a free holiday out of it."

"Lucky for us, then."

The fridge and cupboards were always stocked whenever they came here, which was also a very nice touch. After settling in, and having a bite of toast they decided to go to Westminster and have a wander around the bridge, and the Houses of Parliament.

They travelled by the underground, enjoying the ordinary mode of transport; using the tube was in itself like a holiday activity. Although Hermione worked at the Ministry, she rarely saw much of London except a nearby cafe to the Ministry, so she wasn't feeling as though she was anywhere near to her work place.

On exiting from the Westminster tube station out onto the pavements, they weren't far from the Boadicea statue. They always looked at it, even though it was a Victorian idealized image to portray patriotism rather than a real tribute. "I always think at least they have the more correct Boudicca name underneath. Stupid Victorians weren't very good with bad handwriting and romanticizing every blooming thing."

Ginny smiled. "I love that you always say that here."

"I didn't want to break the habit," Hermione said with an equally big grin. "Although, personally I spell it with one 'c', but both are valid."

Instead of walking on the bridge, they decided to walk around to Westminster Abbey, always impressed how the towers stretched up into the sky and that its foundations had been there so long; that it housed the remains and shrine of Edward the Confessor.

"Little test for you," said Hermione. "When did Edward the Confessor die?"

"Ahh...give me a moment," Ginny complied and was thinking on the answer but soon clicked her fingers. "1066...had to be, because due to his inadequate crapness, his death resulted in William the Conqueror invading and wiping Harold II off the field of play at the Battle of Hastings."

"Inadequate crapness?!" Hermione laughed. "Shhh, don't say that too loudly, he is a saint?!"

"I don't think he minds," said Ginny.

"He was one of the first type of patron saints of England before that St. George bloke," Hermione said with obvious disdain.
"You never liked old George, did you?"

"He wasn't English, he never stepped foot in England, probably couldn't speak English, and most definitely didn't kill a dragon...AND he's also patron saint of syphilis?!"

"I'm sure he can't help that. He probably didn't choose the job title...as he was dead by then."

"I know, but where is the sense in it?" Hermione offered a mint sweet to Ginny, and had one herself. "St. Edmund made sense, King of East Anglia, often said to be the last English King...killed by the Vikings in the ninth century, but at least he was born here. They even named the place he was buried in Suffolk as 'Bury St. Edmunds' or the older "St Edmundsbury. And he was for a long time an unofficially official patron saint, guardian of monarchs...kings visited his shrine for guidance and credibility when making big decisions...even a pre-Magna Carta meeting was held there...urgh..."

"I suspect that championing your well thought out case won't get you very far," offered Ginny in good humour.

"No, it won't...aside from the fact that England is technically Anglican, and therefore protestant in religion, so in theory saints shouldn't hold much sway anyway...and religion itself doesn't hold much sway these days either."

"Well, if Salazar Slytherin can be a founder of a school then old syphilitic George can be England's saint," said Ginny.

Hermione snorted with laughter. "I'm not sure George had syphilis himself...though, I suppose he might have..."

Ginny put her arm around Hermione's shoulders as they both looked up again at the towers of Westminster Abbey. "Enjoying yourself?"

"Yeah." After a pause she added. "What changes this place has stood sentinel over. Not just all the coronations and weddings but the city around it."

"Riots, wars...questionable dress sense," said Ginny, eyeing a couple of tourists in rather tight ill-fitting shorts.

"Yup, because the length of one's skirt – or shorts - is right up there with the importance of choice of monarch and religious upheaval."

They moved on and spent the rest of the day in Covent Garden, looking around the many market stalls and shops, having a pleasant lunch there too. Both tired from their day of tourism, they slept soundly that night.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Next morning after they had showered and were having some breakfast, looking over a couple of new guidebooks they had bought the day before, Ginny became thoughtful. "Looking at all those places and what you said about the things those places have lived through and seen...I wonder if in many years time, people will look at Hogwarts in our world and think of the battle that played out there, of the people we lost and the things that happened."

"All of it is in the revised 'Hogwarts: A History'," replied Hermione. "As well as other supplementary publications. We're already part of history in the books."

"It made me think about Boudicca and what she would think of people and the position of the country if she could see it."

"Scared stiff, probably!" replied Hermione.

"I imagine her first glimpse of a London black cab hurtling past would be a shock to the system. It often befuddles the current magic world."

They were quiet for a time, and Ginny looked at Hermione and could see she was thinking deeply about something. She reached out and brushed back a strand of hair from her wife's face. "I haven't made you glum, thinking on the battle at Hogwarts, have I?"

Hermione raised her head and looked back at her wife. "No. Not glum."

"Something had your attention there, you looked miles away?"

The brunette didn't answer, but looked a little pensive; not pained, but unsettled. Ginny moved and got hold of Hermione's hands. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, really...I don't quite know what to do..."

"About?"

"An idea I have."

"Where to visit today?"

"Not really, something else."

"Shit! You don't want to look for Boudicca, do you?"

"What?" Hermione's eyes flicked up, alarmed. "No, of course not. Besides, I don't have a clue where she would be most of the time. No one can even state the exact place of her final battle. And it was fairly dangerous around her at any time, so we couldn't just drop in."

"That means you've thought about it?"

"In theory, I have no wish to get mixed up with that." Hermione smiled and stroked Ginny's hair in return. "You might get away as an original Briton or Celt with that hair and your physique as a warrior, but I suspect I wouldn't look convincing as anything there."

"So what's your idea? I promise I won't laugh."

"I was thinking over a theory of bringing Anne Lister here for a day or two."

Ginny was silent, her eyes wide, her mouth forming a word but no sound coming out. Finally she said. "I'm definitely not laughing. In theory, right?"

"I was thinking more the practical."

"Fuck!"

"We couldn't go back to 1832 again, as it's too dangerous with us having been there before and I don't want to encroach on her and Ann Walker, but she was nearly at her most adventurous in 1840 and I think I can pin her down to an exact place and day that it might work, without any need for costumes and fake bloody names. Literally an in and out mission."

"It's still dangerous," said Ginny. "Maybe I should ask, why? I think I know, but tell me. Help me understand, or at least make some sense of it."

"I hate that she just dies," Hermione held Ginny's hand when her wife was about to interrupt. "I know, we can't save her, and I don't intend to. She was so interested in our time and our life, disbelieving most of it. I want to repay her trust, the way she took us in and helped us. I want to show her...here. Picking a time so late into 1840 also means there's less risk of her talking about us in her diary, as it's all full of travel and annoyance at Ann."

"What if she doesn't want to go back again?"

"I think she will, if not we can come up with some rubbish about time rules and certain death and side effects. Besides, despite her blustering, she wouldn't leave Ann from the place I have pinpointed."

"Which is?"

"A monastery, up a cliff, in Georgia." Hermione closed her eyes, barely opening one eye to gauge Ginny's reaction.

"It keeps the isolation intact."

"I can be more specific, down to an area where Anne...has a toilet break...,"

"Well if she had constipation before, you turning up beside her suddenly, will solve that problem!"

"So, do you think I'm mad?"

"Frequently!" Then Ginny brought one of Hermione's hands to her lips. "No. I understand it. If it gets known we'll be in some serious shit. Anne Lister's bowel movements will be nothing compared to that."

"I know that too. I'm banking on my autonomy. My 'brief' of experiments. And it is known by a few, Kingsley, Harry and that lot, that we met and worked with her, despite her being a muggle and not wiping her memory. The fact we've proven that she kept her word and that nothing has changed that risks our exposure from that time, proves that she is trustworthy and not liable to be bad."

"I'm not sure they'll see it like that."

"Well, I'll claim stress of deaths..."

"You have been stressed," said Ginny. "Mostly in a sad, quiet way."

"Fleur has said the same," Hermione nodded. "I will go alone, you will not be involved in the travel."

"I don't like that! What if something goes wrong and you're stuck there?"

"I have both Time-Turners, and spare diamonds," said Hermione, reaching for her beaded bag and pulling out the velvet pouch.

"So it wasn't just books you got from the study before we left?"

"No. I wasn't sure, that once I got here I'd still feel as keen, in some ways it's made me more certain that I want to try."

"There are so many 'what if' things that could go wrong. What if she's stuck here?" asked Ginny, concerned.

"Then together with Flitwick, we make another Time-Turner for us and we sort it out...I'm almost sure I could make a decent one myself with a few pointers."

"How long have you been thinking on this?"

"Properly, only the past couple of weeks, but like any part of history I always have thoughts of what people would think if brought here from various eras."

"It's just Anne Lister, though?"

"Yeah, too risky for more, and I have no one else I'm willing to try this for."

"Would you bring her here?"

"Yes, it's safer here than our house. Plus she knows London from her time, so although it's changed a huge amount, there are things she will know. And also, she must not see Shibden Hall how it is today, or anything that might show that her diaries have been read and the code has been deciphered. So Halifax or even York is out of the question."

"And if she doesn't want to come here?"

"Then I won't push."

"I can't get past all the dangers, but I understand. Even I would be fascinated to see what she made of this place. I'd like to...talk to her again," Ginny looked up into Hermione's face.

"No," said Hermione, sternly, seeing a question in her partner's face. "I don't want that with her. That's not what this is about. If any of that time showed me, it's how much I love and want you, and no one else. The experience was interesting and I do care for her, but nothing on the level I love you."

"It could make you look like a hypocrite if it's discovered."

"I know and don't give a flying fart!" said Hermione, astonishing her partner. "They keep saying we're the most qualified, blah blah, and we are. If it does go wrong, then I'll take the heat. Then it might only prove that Time-Turners should be outlawed."

Ginny wrapped her arms around Hermione, then kissed her. "I still don't like you going alone. I don't like a lot about this, but especially not that bit."

"Okay then, you come with me, we have the chain lengthened from before."

"Deal," Ginny nodded. "We're going to need to dress her differently if she ever steps foot outside the house."

"I thought of that too," said Hermione. "Otherwise people will think she's just come off the film set of some Jane Austen or Dickensian production."

"If we go from here and back to here, clothing won't be an issue."

"Call me sadistic, but I want to go dressed like this, in our normal stuff...the surprise effect would be golden."

"You are sadistic! She's definitely not going to have constipation after this!" Ginny laughed. "So when are we going to do this?"

"This morning...now-ish."

"Why not, we're here until Friday. The less time we have to wait, the better...it's not like we could sleep on it and do this tomorrow."

"I know it's kind of exciting."

"Madness, but exciting," said Ginny, resigned. "We'd better get prepared then."

Hermione knew that Anne's diary mentioned very warm conditions so she and Ginny, thought they would be fine in roughly what they wore; they would hopefully not be there for long, anyway. They quickly got out some clothes and put on the guest room bed, which they thought could be worn by Anne, and magically altered as need be.

"What about underwear? She surely won't be comfortable in her usual stuff under that?" said Ginny.

"If and when I magic her into them, I'll make sure she has one of those soft pull on bras...she would probably think we were trying to garotte her if she had a real bra on. She's not too big in that area, so it will be fine. And perhaps some ladies boxers, will be closest to her current things." Hermione prepared both under garments and made three of each using some white T-shirts as the donor material. Finally she laid out some socks.

Both women, themselves, wore jeans and T'shirts, and as Ginny put on some decent walking shoes she asked, "So you have a very good guess of time? Where she'll be, exactly?"

"As far as I can see, she takes a call of nature before she writes up some notes. The note is about 11.10am so I reckon 10.45am might work."

"Is Ann Walker around? If so, that's going to take some explaining."

"No, she isn't right there at that moment. She's a little way off sketching the monastery. They had other people in their travelling group so she won't be left alone," said Hermione as she tied her own laces.

"And the location?"

"This is the hard part. As far as I can be sure from the time it takes them to travel from Kutaisi and the nearness to Sachkhere, I'm banking on the Time-Turner knowing where a place is regardless of name changes. She writes about a 'Djirootchy' monastery, so I'll just have to go with it and hope for the best. Nothing came up on my searches, but the area they are in, following around the Kvirila river, might be the site of a monastery called Mgvimevi today...the rocks and caves sound so like Anne's descriptions. I'll go for the old word she uses and hope the Time-Turner takes us to the right place."

"Well, if we're seen by someone we don't intend to see us, we can quickly get out of that with a cloaking spell, which gives us time to find somewhere to hide."

"I thought we'd leave from the bedroom she'd be staying in, then if she does come back with us and isn't a good time-traveller, she has the bed right there."

"I think you've thought of almost everything," said Ginny, smiling. "Come on then, let's get going. Having too much time to think about it will probably put me off and change my mind"

Hermione brought out the velvet pouch and checked the diamond on the Time-Turner they had used before, then put the pouch with the extra diamonds and the other Time-Turner back into her beaded bag. She put the chain over their necks. Then she checked her watch as 9.30am, and adding a couple of minutes to the time to return, then pointed her wand to the Time-Turner, as Ginny held onto her arm.

"10.45am 24th July 1840, near church of Djirootchy monastery, Georgia, Movere."

The journey was the usual slightly unpleasant rush of squeezing, pushing, windblown roaring movement, yet also giving the feeling of being suspended in mid-air.

They landed in a much warmer place than they had left and quickly assessed where they were, the church of the monastery was nearby and there were natural rocks around the area. They couldn't see or hear anyone and Hermione pointed to some trees away from where they were which they could observe from.

Once there, panting from nerves more than exertion of heat, Hermione said. "She mentioned something about a recess in the rocks." She looked at the area ahead of them, and to the side there were several rocks with what looked like a way to walk through to them.

After a couple of minutes, they were considering how best to stay hidden, if and when Anne walked up to the rocks, when they heard movement in that direction, of feet on slightly loose stones; perhaps it wasn't human, it could have been an animal of some kind.

Continuing to watch the area Hermione said. "She wrote in code that she had a 'little motion'...,"

Ginny looked round at her with a look of amused mock squeamishness. "...and that she washed her...oh bugger."

"Washed her what?"

"It's her!"

As Ginny turned her head back they saw Anne emerge from the clump of rocks, still adjusting her clothing to hang better. No one else was near, although they thought they could make out the occasional sound of chatter, that got louder in the breeze then faded again, which must be coming from the travel party down the slope.

"Here goes nothing," said Hermione, as she stood up and walked out, Ginny following. "Hello, Anne."

Anne Lister stopped, rooted to the spot, staring at the women dressed peculiarly in front of her. Were they bandits? Obviously not rogue monks. Was she in danger from these strange people?...they knew her name...they looked familiar...?

"Do you remember us?" Hermione asked, staying back to give her space.

"Yes," Anne said, swallowing hard. "Of course. It's been...eight years."

"Yeah, it's been..."

"And you haven't aged at all," said Anne, walking up to them, really looking at them, to the point of studying.

"When we first met," explained Hermione, noticing that Anne's face was more lined and very tanned, she was as lithe as ever and she had a little greying hair at her temples. "We had come from the year 2007, this time we've come from 2008. So only about a year to us."

"Perhaps one should ask why you're here this time? And why here?" Anne asked.

Ginny was about to answer, "Well..." but was cut off by Anne as her thought processes went into over drive.

"No, no, one should ask how you knew I would be here?"

Hermione looked at her watch, knowing that to have a smooth transition they couldn't stand there talking all day. She reckoned they had about eight minutes.

"Your notes on travel have been preserved in our time, so we know what you visited and what things looked like, even if they have different names in our time."

Anne nodded, accepting the possibility and her face twitched slightly making Hermione wonder if a smile was close to breaking out, because at one time Anne had considered publishing books on her travel for others to read. It had partly started her getting the travel bug.

"The reason we're here...and we don't have much time...but would you like to come back with us, for a couple of days?" Ginny asked.

"Back where? England?"

"Yes, but our England in 2008."

"Why?"

"Just to experience it. We told you so much about our time, would you like to see it for yourself?"

"So there's no murders this time?"

"No. It is purely a holiday type of trip, with no missions or things that need doing," said Hermione, checking her watch again. "We soon need an answer though...like in the next minute or two."

"I can't leave, right now. I have people...I have my...I have...Miss Walker...down the slope waiting for me."

"No one will know you're gone," said Hermione, keeping from smiling that even now Anne was cautious about saying 'my wife' out loud and not automatically. "When you come back, we'll take you to this moment. No one will know you have even gone." Anne nodded. "So, you haven't said no, yet?"

"Would I be going to your house?" Anne asked.

"No," said Ginny. "It's a house we're staying at in Victoria, London."

Anne's interest was piqued. "And I can come back to here whenever I want to?"

"Yes," said Hermione. "If you want to come back immediately we will do it. We'll do nothing against your wishes on that front."

"And we can go, now, right now?"

"That's a yes?"

Anne smiled. "As much as I enjoy travelling, a house in London does sound rather tempting."

Hermione brought out the Time-Turner and put the long chain over their necks. "Time?"

Out came Anne's pocket watch. "10.58"

It made Hermione grin and feel a warmth down to her toes. It was the famous, or infamous, little pieces of Anne Lister's character that always intrigued her.

"When we come back we'll make it 10.59. Okay," Hermione got her wand out and pointed at the Time-Turner, giving their location in Victoria the date and time and "Movere."

Ginny held onto one of Anne's arms to make sure they didn't lose her in some way and in moments, which always seemed longer, they landed back in the house in London. Anne was unsteady, so Hermione took the chain from their necks and prodded her to sit on the edge of the bed.

"That was...," Anne panted, shaking her head slightly. "Strange."

"You don't feel ill?"

"Not really, only off balance on arrival."

"I know you've had a lot of information," said Ginny, looking at Anne, taking in the travel worn and dusty clothing. "We need to get you into modern clothes, so it doesn't matter if you are seen."

"Fine, do what you must," said Anne, a little dazed.

"We'll do it the wand way, then things will also fit you better," said Hermione, as she flicked her wand, and suddenly Anne was sitting there in comfortable cotton, wide-legged, black trousers and a blue cotton check shirt, with her own clothes hanging in the wardrobe.

Anne stood up, a look of dismay, wonder and a touch of fear at what she was wearing. And her feet had a solid pair of black lace-up walking shoes.

"The trousers?" Anne pointed to herself. "Really?"

"Are they too tight?" asked Ginny.

"No...they're too...vulgar...too obvious," Anne tried to explain.

"Oh...no, don't worry about it. It's completely normal for women to be seen in trousers. Probably more women wear trousers now rather than skirts. All kinds of women too."

"Walk up and down, look in the mirror over on the wardrobe," gestured Ginny. "If you really hate something we can change it."

Anne carefully walked to the mirror, unused to the modern fit of the trousers and the comfort of the shoes almost feeling like they were moulded to the shape of her foot. The blue of the check shirt was acceptable, but it all felt and looked very peculiar.

"Hair," said Ginny.

"I assume you'd like it kept back...so we'll give you a simple ponytail like Ginny's wearing now," said Hermione, as she flicked her wand again. Somehow the pony tail completely softened Anne's countenance.

Rubbing a hand to her cheek Anne said, "I'm sorry to say I'm a little grubby."

"No problem," said Hermione, with a flick of the wand performing a cleaning spell.

Anne still looked a bit perplexed and unsettled.

"Right," said Ginny, deciding on a course of action. "Cup of tea, or coffee, downstairs."

They led the way to the kitchen sitting Anne at the table. The kitchen had a dining area and also a lounge area just off it with a television. Ginny often did things the muggle way when it came to food and drink and part of her was interested to see how Anne would react to an electric kettle. She filled it with water and set it on its base and flicked the switch, immediately producing the faint roaring sound as it heated up.

"Milk, sugar?" asked Hermione.

"No. I've taken to drinking it black with no sugar lately," Anne let her gaze roam the kitchen. "Does that contraption brew tea as well?"

"No, it's only a kettle, just boils the water, we tend not to use teapots, or not as often, when we have...," Hermione stuck her hand in a jar and produced a tea bag. "...the humble teabag. You can decide how strong you want it yourself and everyone likes their cuppa different."

Ginny opened the large fridge door, and brought out a milk bottle, aware that she was being watched carefully. "Cold storage. Come have a look."

Anne walked over and Ginny was entertained as Anne opened the door, became transfixed by the lights that came on and opened it a couple more times.

"The other side is a freezer," said Hermione, opening the other door on the fridge, she picked up a packet of frozen peas and gave to Anne, who was so surprised she nearly juggled them.

"And everyone has one of these cold stores, instead of ice houses or cold pantries?"

"Most, probably not as big as this one, but yes, everyone has a fridge. Keeps things like milk and butter fresh, salad vegetables, meat. There would be so much more food poisoning without them and things wouldn't last as long," Hermione explained.

Anne looked at the milk bottle, a four-pinter and nearly dropped it when the bottle squished in her hand. "What kind of glass is soft?"

"Plastic," said Hermione. "A man-made material, don't ask me how or from what, not my field of expertise. It's used for all kinds of things including bottles of milk. Sadly there's too much of the stuff on the planet and we're all killing ourselves with it, the plastic that is, not the milk. But that's a whole other issue. The fact is, it's useful."

A few minutes later with Anne mesmerized by dunking her own teabag, yet very slightly mystified by it and possibly even distrustful of the teabag, and most especially of the chunky mug she was holding that had a picture of a rabbit, wearing a blue overcoat, eating a radish. Looking at the others' drinking cups, Ginny was drinking from a mug with a curious smiling ginger and black striped cat, and Hermione was drinking from one with the words 'Everything tastes better with cat hair in it'.

"There are some rules about being here," said Hermione. "I'm sure there are some things you would very much like to see. However, we can't leave London."

Anne finally discarded her teabag on the teabag dish, on the table in front of her. "So I can't see Shibden?"

"No, I'm sorry."

"It becomes very dangerous when we cross over into the things we shouldn't see or know," said Ginny. "Like when we went to 1943, we could have looked for our grandparents, but we didn't. It would have been very foolish."

"But it still stands?" Anne asked.

"Yes," then Hermione thought carefully. "And retains most of your improvements."

Anne, smiled. "At least it sounds as though the architect was up to the job, and the workers were good after all."

There was a pregnant pause before a tricky question was spoken. "Does a Lister still live there? Do you know?" Anne asked, almost like she didn't want to know the answer.

"That's safe to answer...isn't it?" Ginny suggested to her wife.

"I think it is," nodded Hermione. "A Lister was the last owner, from the Welsh branch of the family, as you intended. However, no one lives there now." I'm going to have to stretch and twist things a little and not mention money troubles, she thought. "The last Lister decided to leave it all to the country...as a place of historical importance, so it will never be allowed to go into disrepair."

"It has ever been a place of importance," said Anne, wistfully. "So many people thought it should be knocked down and replaced by a modern larger house, but I never wanted to do that."

"Then you have what you wished for," said Hermione, with a smile.

"How do you know I wanted the Welsh Listers to inherit?"

Bugger! Thought Hermione. "When...the last Lister...left it to the country it was mentioned in his wishes...how it came to him, from your will, I think," she said, only slightly haltingly. Anne nodded.

"Anyway," Ginny moved on. "We're in London. We can visit most things here. There isn't the danger here as much, because the London you knew is different to today. And it's a lot more populated and spread out."

"I think the estimation this year of London was a population of over seven million," added Hermione.

Anne's eyebrows rose. "That's...I'm not sure I can imagine it."

"I think I read once that the population of the whole of England and Wales in 1840 was about 9 million," the brunette said.

"Mind you, said Ginny "We've taken the tube...trains that run underground in London...it sometimes feels like all seven million are in our carriage!"

"You showed me a picture of you outside your parliament," said Anne. "Could I see those new buildings?"

"Absolutely," said Hermione. "We were only in Westminster yesterday. I think it might be best to choose the taxi option for a first outing"

"Good idea," said Ginny.

"No negotiating ticket barriers, escalators, or the crush and balance needed for the tube. Plus, it gives us a bit more privacy and leisure."

"We can go now, unless you need a trip...somewhere," said Ginny, wanting to laugh about what Anne was doing in those rocks back at the monastery again.

"The water closet?" Anne asked, when she got a nod. "No need."

"There are a few little rules," said Hermione. "Don't accidentally wander out into the roads, and kind of take your cues from us; be prepared to see anything. It's not just how a person looks, or reacts, because most people in London couldn't care less and probably wouldn't notice - and there's all sorts here - but it's also for your safety."

"Understood. But if you know anything about my travels you will know I've traversed gorges and the most awkward of mountain passes in my time. I'm sure I can cope with roads...and odd people." said Anne. "Lead the way."

A/N: It took a little while to decide on the place to find Anne again. Her diary in 1840 is occasionally fragmented and at other times overloaded; some from notes she wrote up later and in varying lengths of detail. So working with maps and guess-timates of distance and which days she was where and at what times and possible modern day names for places that match her descriptions, brought me to my choice of day and place in Georgia. There is more than one monastery in that area which could be the one she mentions, but either her spelling was way off, possibly writing it phonetically too, or some other factors, as I can't exactly line them up. So I went for geographical markers of rivers and roads etc, and chose the monastery at Mgvimevi, which matches her descriptions as best as I can tell, without studying Georgia a heck of lot deeper than I have time to.

The flea she killed in her 'drawers' is indeed in code and along with her call of nature not far from the monastery church in a cluster of rocks, and taking care of a certain ablution too. It's those little personal insights that make her diaries so entertaining and so human.