Author's Note: Written as a birthday gift for GeekLoveFan, who requested an SS/HG story where she's still a student. I've come up with a bit of a twist that I hope you'll enjoy. After all, every story has its time, and this one has more than most.
A Present Steeped in Shadows
She lay beside him, her form flickering in the firelight as though the moment he blinked she would disappear. His eyes burned as he tried to memorize every curl of her hair, the soft curve of her waist to hip, the slight pouch of her belly, the way her toes uncurled as she shifted. He breathed in her scent, savoring her like he would any perfectly brewed potion. His eyes were a stone at the bottom of the ocean, the only movement in their depths the flickering flame from the slowly dying fire as he watched over her.
Perfection. But, like all of the perfect things in his life, this moment too would not last.
"Please," he whispered, "Tell me how it ends."
"Severus." His name breathed out in a sigh. She wrinkled her nose and whimpered as she stirred in her sleep, turning towards him and reached out to touch him, the sensation of skin on skin electric and soothing all at once.
He drew her close to him, buried his face in her hair, and willed the stinging sensation in his eyes to stop. His breathing betrayed him only slightly- a slight jerk to his chest as he struggled to keep it even. She was so warm, so alive, so there. It was hard to believe that soon, they would be back to playing their parts. There was no room for error. They could not see each other, because it would be improper, because it would be impossible once they returned to the forms they held outside these walls.
His eyes opened only once more before he succumbed to exhaustion. That hated phial, sitting smugly on the bedside table simultaneously mocking him and offering his only salvation.
Just like him, it was a study in duality. A twisted, yet fitting analogy to his own life.
There is nothing I can do. This has already happened. It will happen again.
And yet, as his waking mind dissolved into darkness, there was only one cold thought he clinged to with stubborn tenacity.
Unless...
Hermione caught her breath and readjusted the rucksack on her shoulder. It was a lucky break that nobody thought to ask questions, not really. It made things so much easier. Still, it was a lonely existence. She'd been on the run for over a year since the explosion. The war was over, yes, but the cost had been greater than anyone could have imagined. The Weasley family snuffed out. Harry catatonic at St Mungos. Neville had pulled through in the last moment when Harry had faltered. The Sword of Gryffindor had sliced through the Dark Lord's neck like butter and, with a disturbingly satisfying sound, it was over. Magical bindings on the giants and acromantulas collapsed, sending them wild-eyed back away from the battle without a backward glance. The Death Eaters fell shrieking, clawing at their arms as the Mark burned to the bone.
Hermione had been too late.
But then again, she'd known she would be all along.
"Try something else," the note had read when she'd awoken in the forest, her hair wild around her. There was a journal with detailed notes that she memorized as best she could and then burned using the salt that had accompanied it. Her wrist burned and as she held it up to the light, she could see a ghostly set of marks there.
Five.
She rolled her wrist, watching them shimmer. She would make sure there was not a sixth.
She had to.
She could not stop, not now.
"You cannot change time," Professor McGonagall had said in Hermione's third year upon counseling her on the Time Turner. "It will only ever be what it was."
"But, how is that possible? If I am going to the same classes at the same time, how will I retain what I have learned?"
"Simple, Hermione," McGonagall replied with a wry smile. "Think of it like visiting two different places. The past is merely a place you can go to when you use the Time Turner, but you will always keep yourself the same. The device merely allows you to move in time similar to the way you would walk forward or backward. The shorter period in which you use it, similar to how a walk around the block will be different than a journey across the country on foot, the fewer distortions will be available in the time stream."
"But...that sounds incredibly dangerous!" Hermione's fingers quivered as she clasped the cold metal of the Time Turner in her fingers. "Why would I ever be allowed to use it?"
"Why, Hermione, haven't you guessed already? It is precisely for the same reason why you three beat the Dark Lord in your very first year at school regardless of permission. And because of your furry problem last fall, and your subsequent petrification. Like it or not, you have involved yourself in an unfolding of events that will only grow more dangerous as time goes on, pardon my pun."
Hermione bit her lip and summoned her courage. "I will not let you down, Professor. I will be certain to use it only for its intended purpose."
"Be sure you do, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall replied with a nod. "But we both know that isn't true."
There was something wrong with the trees. They shifted in a kaleidoscope of mirrored foliage above her, and she nearly fell trying to track where the wrongness began with her eyes.
Hermione had been practicing with the Time Turner for several months, and as long as the weather held, the Forbidden Forest was the best place where she wouldn't be disturbed. She stayed far from the centaur-occupied sections, just far enough in so that more adventurous students (or those looking for a snog) wouldn't interrupt her.
At first it had only been to extend her time studying, but then she got sick and was horrified at the thought of missing class. It was so easy to justify using it for every little thing. It was only a few hours, she reasoned to herself. Hogwarts deserved the best she had to offer, and if she had a tool to make that possible, who was she to deny it?
The Time Turner burned hot on her chest, then, and she could see small patches of her skin fading and darkening. A sensation of pulling and pushing- of growing and shrinking, prickled unevenly across her skin. Thoughts brushed against her mind that were somehow hers but were also foreign at the same time It wasn't until she began to see the soft glow of light from the massive tree to her left that she realized that she was already three steps closer to it. The Time Turner tugged away from her skin, drawn towards the glowing rock at the base of the tree like a magnet; a rock that Hermione could see was lighting up in a shape that she'd seen only partially once before in an Ancient Runes book she'd borrowed from the Forbidden Section. The page had been torn, but she recognized those curves, much like that of the Time Turner itself, only with a bend in the middle.
"This is ancient magic," Hermione breathed, almost afraid to dare to say the words. But surely she wasn't the only one who had walked this way. A worn hunting trail was nearby, one that she had found when she'd begun practicing in this place only a few months earlier. But it was obvious by the amount of lichen and grime, and the deep blanket of leaves that this place had not been disturbed anytime recently. Her fingers grasped the warmth of the Time Turner, then, and she understood.
She traced the rune, and she felt it open.
Before her, there was a door that was not a door, one that she could feel like a wave of prickling heat, even though she could not see it with her eyes.
She took a quivering breath and stepped through.
"Come on! It's not funny anymore!" Severus struggled, but his wrists appeared to be tight tightly to a thick, rough rope, which extended around a tree several times, if the bark digging into his cheek was any indication.
No, that was a lie. It had never been funny, and it never would be.
He remembered tasting a slight bitterness in his pumpkin juice and then…
He blinked, his eyes adjusting to the dim light. The smells of the forest surrounded him and he realized he was only wearing a light jumper. Whoever had done this to him, and he had his suspicions who, had taken him from the common room. He was still in his stocking feet, his shoes probably still at the foot of his dormitory bed.
He'd heard many stories of the horrors lurking in the Forbidden Forest. It was his second year, after all. And considering that he'd seen the thestrals in the carriages being released by Hagrid to hunt game, he knew better than most that it wasn't safe, especially after dark.
Lily was going to kill him for falling prey to one of the classic wizarding blunders— never accept an unpoured drink from another without knowing their true intentions.
That is, if he survived the night.
A rustling to his left made him jerk his head wildly, his eye rolling with terror. His death could be on its way, and all they'd find in the morning would be bones….
No, Severus, mustn't panic. If it's a beast, they'll smell that….and….
He went very still, his body instinctively curling into the bark of the tree, willing himself invisible. His wand was back at his dormitory, hidden in a secret pocket of his robes. He'd been a fool to get comfortable in the jumper that his mum had knitted him. It smelled herbal and homey with a hint of earth like her garden shed, and he liked wearing it when he was feeling homesick.
A snap of a twig made him jerk as though he'd been struck, and he was very conscious about the cold air on the back of his neck.
Someone...or something….was breathing heavily behind him….
He tried to look, but he could not see. Footfalls, hesitant at first, began to speed up, and he finally let out a tiny, defeated bleat of fear that would have mortified him had he retained a shred of remaining pride.
"No….no…." he moaned in terror, and then, a bright flash of light blinded him and he felt his body sag backwards into a pair of surprisingly human arms.
He looked up through his messy, stringy hair and saw the puzzled look of a girl he'd never seen before staring back.
"Oh," he said, and promptly fainted.
Hermione didn't know the boy who lay senseless in her arms. He looked younger than she was, she realized, shocked at the state of the short and scrawny boy who'd been tied to the tree across from her. He hadn't been there moments before, back in the forest, but when she turned back, she could see the soft glow of the rune behind her.
A gateway, she thought. But...a gateway to...where? Or...when?
The boy didn't look familiar to her, but that meant nothing if he wasn't in her year. She quickly undid the rough ropes around his wrists, wincing in sympathy at the red marks that he'd received for his struggles.
He shivered, still groggy, and she laid him back on some leaves and cast a Warming charm and tried to make him comfortable before hastily running back to the glowing rock and covering it with leaves. She turned back, and saw that his dark eyes were watching her suspiciously. It was oddly familiar, but she couldn't place it.
"Are you ok?" she asked, watching him sit up and scramble backwards as though she had threatened him. There was a strange, jittery way that he held himself, as though expecting an attack.
"What are you doing here?" His question was accusatory, but she could hear the quiver in his voice.
"I..was practicing," Hermione replied, trying to keep it vague. "I heard a voice call out, so I came to investigate.
His eyes narrowed, then he seemed to understand. "I see. I suppose this place is pretty useful when you're...practicing. No one ever comes here, especially at night."
"I know. It's dangerous at night," Hermione agreed. "I...let time get away from me. What year are you? Are you hurt? I can help you get back to the castle if you need to."
"I'm...fine." He rubbed at the rope burn at his wrists. "I can get back all right. You should too."
"If you don't mind me asking, who did this to you?" she asked, her righteousness winning out over her worry that by prying she might do something terrible to the flow of time.
"I have a hunch," he said warily. "I'll handle it. What's your name? I don't recognize you. You're not in my year."
"I…" Hermione trailed off, indecisive. Would this...cause a problem? "I'm in my third year."
"Ah," he replied with a surprisingly sage-like nod. "You're a year ahead of me, then."
"I...don't have a lot of friends at Hogwarts," Hermione admitted, surprised at the sick feeling that slithered in her belly at the truth of the words.
His eyes crinkled slightly in commiseration, and she knew he shared the sentiment. "I'm Severus," he said, sticking out his hand.
"Hermione," she replied, smiling out of habit and taking it.
An odd sensation crawled up her arm as they touched, but it was gone after a moment, and she gripped his fingers a bit more firmly than she'd meant to. She withdrew her hand and looked away, embarrassed.
"Your magic...it's...I felt it," he remarked, his eyes wide.
Hermione felt her cheeks warm and she looked away again in embarrassment. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be. My mum says you can't help it if you feel someone else's magic. It's just a natural thing." His expression seemed to imply that he was about to say something else, but he held back, looking at her expectantly.
"I didn't know that," Hermione replied. "I'm...still learning a lot of things."
"Me too." He seemed to falter here, and they both felt the darkness of the forest creeping in around them. "Do you practice here often?" There was something about the way he said it that made her feel as though she was being gently interrogated.
"Today was unusual." Hermione replied. "I...normally go back to the castle before now."
"Well, maybe we should get going," Severus replied, standing up straighter as though trying to appear taller than he was. Hermione was still a few inches taller than him even without the volume of her hair, but there was a sense of deja vu at the way he regarded her, his frightened demeanor nearly gone.
"Back to the castle?" Hermione asked, her stomach doing a flip-flop. "Can you...tell me something before we go?"
"Sure, if I can." Severus tugged at the sleeves of his jumper. Pinned to the front was a tiny green and silver pin. Slytherin.
"Who is your head of House?" Hermione asked.
"Horace Slughorn," Severus replied. "Probably doesn't even realize I'm missing, the lout."
A thread of panic began to rise in Hermione's belly. The name wasn't familiar. She was obviously farther afield in time than she'd ever gone before.
"Shall we?" Severus extended his arm, which seemed somehow both gentlemanly and childish at the same time.
"I...I need to go get the rest of my materials...put them away...for next time…" Hermione bit her lip, uncomfortable with the lie. Could she go back through the rune door? Would it even work the other way around? What if it took her further away from her time?
"I'll help—" Severus started forward.
"No! I...I mean, I'll be ok, doing it on my own." Hermione stammered, trying to regain her composure.
Severus froze as though he'd been slapped, his eyes suddenly locking on to the golden Time Turner at her chest. "What...is that?"
"I..I can't tell you...I've probably already told you too much." Hermione grabbed the Time Turner in her hand, feeling its heat. "I...I need to get back, now."
She took a step back, and back again. She could feel the glowing runestone on the rock behind her like a heartbeat. She needed to get back.
"Who are you?" he asked, and his voice rose with accusation. "Where are you from?"
"I'm from here," she stammered. "I wasn't lying about that."
"Are you?" he demanded. "How do I even know you're human?"
"Please, you have to trust—ow!" Hermione stumbled on a hidden rock under the leaves, her ankle rolled painfully to the side. Before she could react, his hand shot forward and then her wand was in his grasp.
"Prove it." His voice was cold and she could see the tension in his stance as he pointed it at her.
"How?" She bent down rubbing at the pain, hoping it wasn't sprained.
"I don't know!" Severus shouted. "But I find it very suspicious that I was tied up in the forest and happened to be rescued by some unknown cute girl who has to ask me the name of my Head of House! I saw you looking at my pin, earlier, so you should know if you're a student, even if you're not from Slytherin. So...I ask you again. Who. Are. You?"
Hermione bit her lip, trying not to cry. She'd helped this boy, and by doing so, probably changed the fabric of the future or the past...she couldn't be sure. And now, he was pointing her wand at her head as though he was about to blow her apart.
"I don't know what will happen if I tell you," she said, her voice wavering as she choked back tears.
"Try me," Severus replied, eyes narrow.
Hermione forced herself to take a deep breath. So. It had come to this. Finally, she spoke, her eyes glossy with unshed tears as she looked up at him pleadingly. "Ok. But...I have to whisper it. I can't risk anyone else knowing. Only you."
At this, Severus seemed honestly taken aback. Then, his lip curled slightly, and Hermione had a sudden flood of deja vu as he stepped forward and reached out his left hand to help her up.
"Go on, then. Try me," He repeated.
Hermione bent close to him, and in the dim light of the moon as it filtered through the trees, she could see the shape of his face, the pallor of his skin, the slight dip of his nose, and his eyes so unnaturally dark and still that she felt she might get lost in them. A frantic sense of knowing began to stir in her belly and still she dared to draw her lips so close to his ear that her cheek was touching his.
"I was not lying when I said I was from here," she whispered, her voice barely a breath. "But not the year. You see, I am from the year 1993."
Severus froze at the sound of the date, and Hermione drew back, to give him one last tearful look, then, as he raised her wand in his hand, though she wasn't sure if he meant to hex her or hand it back to her, she brought her lips to his and kissed him. The shock ran through them both as that electric sensation of power against power returned, only amplified tenfold as they pressed against one another, their arms and hands moving of their own accord. And then, Hermione was breaking away, her wand back in her hand, and before Severus could move or speak, she had reached the rock, her finger tracing the rune and the door that was not a door had swallowed her once more.
It always happened at the end of Fifth Year. Hermione, or rather, the Hermione who had been in her Fifth Year, received nearly mortal wounds at the Ministry. Of course, at the time, everyone had thought that they'd looked worse than they actually were. But they were wrong. The wounds had been magically induced by a curse so ancient and unknown that it took everything that St Mungo's could throw at it to stabilize the girl. Of course, it had helped that a mysterious new Mediwitch had come along with a potion that could regrow the flesh lost and save the girl's life, but required a long period of healing that this Mediwitch was happy enough to provide after the girl's Muggle mother arrived to make arrangements. The fact that the Mediwitch and the mother never appeared at the same time did not seem to worry the staff at St Mungo's. After all, those in the Magical World were unused to asking questions when everything seemed to be in order.
In the decade after the end of the War, Hermione had become an absolute master at brewing Polyjuice potion, among other things. It was easy enough to return to the right place in time, send her parents to Australia, and to arrange to enlist the help of an ally that nobody would expect. And so, with herself safely healing in a mountain cabin, Hermione-from-the-future slipped into her past self for the fifth time.
Severus checked his watch again. It was a crappy old thing with a cracked face that he'd rescued from a rubbish bin and fixed himself, but because it wound up instead of requiring a battery, it didn't malfunction like other Muggle technology did at Hogwarts.
The wards he'd raised around the area had held. The area was undisturbed, save for the little tent he'd set up earlier that afternoon after escaping from yet another tired feud between the Gryffindor boys and his fellow Slytherins. He just wanted to be shot of the whole thing. He just wanted…
There was never a flash of light when it happened. She was just suddenly there. And it was only a few moments until she'd leapt into his arms and wrapped herself around him as though she was about to squeeze his head off.
Not that he minded. Her scent was heavenly after so many months alone. It'd taken some time before they realized that the time bridge was separate from Hermione's Time Turner (though their best guess was that her use of the device had "tuned" her body to travel using the rune in a way that Severus could not) and the runic magic worked on a cycle of even and odd months The moon had to be within waxing and full, and there were all of the regular classes and people to sneak away from, which only gave them a handful of nights to spend together.
He carried her to the tent, and she giggled into his mouth as they nearly tripped and fell. His head was filled with the same giddiness, and the laughter bubbled from him, leading to them both sprawled and laughing together by the light of a small lantern of blue flame. He spread out the snacks he'd stolen from the kitchens and they chatted together, their bodies humming with unspoken but mutual desires.
"The summer is nearly here," she said, "I wish I could visit you."
"Then stay," he said, stroking her cheek. "We'll figure something out."
His voice had deepened, and he'd grown taller, but he was still lanky and she could wrap her arms around his frame and then some.
"Severus…" she trailed off, and he knew she was going to tell him something he wasn't going to like hearing.
"I know, I know…" he grumbled, "the future needs you in it. But...can't you just...tell me what happens? Do I find you? Do we..." He trailed off, his face ablaze with unsaid things.
"I received a letter," Hermione said slowly. "From myself."
"Isn't that against the rules?" he asked.
"I don't know!" she replied, throwing up her hands. "But...it said something that made my blood run cold, and I just...I can't be the only one who knows. Severus, please. I need you to know too."
Severus felt his heart quicken with thoughts of calamity and horror. Was Hermione being warned of her death? Would he die before they could meet in the future? What was so terrible that Hermione appeared to be on the verge of tears just trying to tell him about it?
He grasped her closely against him and the familiar buzz of their magic enveloping one another played over his skin like a comforting blanket. Their hearts slowed as they held one another in their little island in time.
"Now," he said gently, stroking her hair as he heard her breathe, "Tell me."
"Something is going to happen. The letter doesn't say what. But...after this week...I won't be able to come back here."
Severus' stomach dropped like a stone. "No...there must be some way to change it. We could—"
"There are things going on on my side," she explained. "I can feel it. There's nothing I can do to change how things are going, even if I wanted to."
"Stay here!" he hissed, holding her protectively against him. "You have to! I'll hide you and keep you safe... I can't...I can't bear…"
"You're strong, Severus," Hermione replied, stroking his cheek. "I will see you again. It just won't be like this."
"Between this and hearing Lily is dating that lout, this has been the absolute worst week of my life," Severus said, "I can't even tell her about you, and she just keeps going on about James this and Potter that. It's enough to make me want to vomit."
"I'm sorry, I know you want to tell people, but—"
"Yeah, yeah, the space-time continuum. Etcetera, etcetera," Seveurs grumbled. "Besides, I like having you to myself. When I'm with you, my mind feels...calm."
Hermione smiled and kissed him softly. "Me too."
He kissed her back and they wrapped tightly into one another, their grieving beyond words, and so it was together that their bodies did what could not be said.
They would make the best of their fleeting last nights together, their hearts humming with the rightness as they lay side by side, but in the end, the letter held true. The next year, though Severus waited faithfully on each waxing and full moon night in the clearing, Hermione never returned.
A great horned owl delivered the letter to Severus at breakfast on the first day after the start of the summer holidays.
After the horror at the Ministry, Severus now knew why Hermione had not returned all those years ago. He'd seen all the blood when she'd been returned to Hogwarts, and he'd done his best to keep her clinging to life with all of his potions and healing knowledge. In the end, she'd been Flooed to St Mungo's from the Headmaster's office and Severus had been left alone in his office covered in her blood with his head in his hands.
It had been so long since he had touched her, and even thinking the words disgusted him while also making him want her more than ever. He could remember the half-lidded look of love she'd given him that last time she'd kissed him, when they both kept putting off her inevitable departure. Now all he could think about was her pale, small, still form, lips pale from blood loss. Even before, though it had killed him a little more each time she had raised her hand in his class, her expression unknowing of what they'd meant to one another, but this was worse than any of those moments combined. The powerlessness. The desire. His disgust in himself at being unable to do anything but sit and wallow in his own angst.
"You pathetic fool," he mumbled to himself, "she's not your Hermione. She's his…"
He thought back to his younger self waiting hopefully in the clearing after that last time, the tent filled with snacks they would never eat together, of nights they would never spend together, and winced.
It had been so long and now he didn't know if she would survive the night. Years of restraint against his baser desires were all that kept him from storming over to St Mungos to make a royal arse of himself and demanding to see her.
"She will survive or she will not," he muttered to himself over and over, as sleep failed to come to him. But even as he said it, he refused to allow himself to think of either possibility.
It took at least a week for Severus to open the letter. In his defense, he'd been mentally exhausted, trying his best to ask Albus about all of the injured children and make it look as though he was trying to do the mental math in his head of how many idiots he would be teaching in the fall. When the Headmaster had remarked on the mediwitch who had taken on Hermione's care and planned to remove her from St Mungo's within the next two weeks if nothing improved, his heart sank like a stone.
"She still hasn't regained consciousness, Severus," Albus was saying, as Severus tried to look put-out and bored at being told about the status of Hermione's health. "There are concerns that she might never awaken."
Severus slowly wet his lips and forced himself to speak. "Will your master plan still work without her, Albus? Tell me that you have some sort of plan in the wings to remedy this...setback."
Twisting the knife was the best he could do. How could the old man have been such a fool to abandon his post and expect Potter and his friends to sit quietly under the tyranny of Umbridge and her lackeys?
"I don't know, my boy," Albus said, his eyes sad as he sat down heavily in the chair across from Severus.
Severus wanted to strangle the old man for looking so helpless. Wasn't this supposed to be planned out in painstaking detail? Albus had over a decade to plan, and he was staking his odds on a bunch of foolhardy children. It was maddening.
"You should think more about the role that you have to play, Severus," Albus said, his expression grave.
"Thank you for the reminder, Albus. How could I have ever forgotten? Unfortunately for yourself and the Dark Lord, before I can think of that role, I need to ready my classroom for next year," Severus said snidely, "so if you have nothing else better to do while I get to work, I say good morning to you, Albus."
Albus stood, and turned to go, before turning back slowly. Severus stiffened with unease. Had the man somehow guessed his true thoughts?
"That reminds me," Albus said mildly. "On the matter of your request to teach Defense…"
"Yeah, yeah," Severus snarled back, indignant that Albus was daring to pick at that old scab again. "Not appropriate for a man of my leanings, was it?"
"Actually, if you would let me finish," Albus said, a mischievous smirk twisting on his gnarled lips, "I wished to congratulate you. I am accepting your application for Defense Against the Dark Arts for the next school year, effective immediately."
Severus' mouth dropped open, but nothing came out. Had he heard the man correctly?
"I would, of course, appreciate it if you could tidy up the Potions classroom. I have been reaching out to old Slughorn but he's been...difficult." Albus winked, as though including Severus in on an inside joke.
"Of course, Sir," Severus managed. He watched the old man go, then looked down at the unfinished paperwork on his desk. The edge of the envelope peeked out from under a partially overturned stack of third year Potions essays.
He pulled it out and looked at the carefully lettered address with a frown. With a carefully practiced motion, he slid his finger under the edge and broke the wax seal.
Inside was a key on a long red silk cord and a short, unsigned note with a date and time.
Bring the pin you were wearing when we first met to our usual place. I know you still have it.
His eyes widened, and he gripped the key tightly, trying to think of every possible way it could be a trick. He'd never told anyone about their first meeting.
Carefully, he placed the key around his neck and tucked it under his robes, feeling the weight of it pressing against his bare skin.
It has to be her, he thought, and it was this thought alone that gave him the strength to get up and sort out the rest of the school year, and to prep two classrooms, all the while cursing the old man for his terrible timing.
Hermione paced back and forth in the small cottage trying not to chew on her nails. This wasn't the first time through, but this was the first time she'd been through, and there was so much that could go wrong. Would he go to the clearing and find the note she'd placed on the tree where he'd been tied? Would he remember the rune in the note's riddle to activate the portkey? Would she have to start over? Wasn't that the unspoken meaning of the marks on her wrist? They reminded her that this wasn't just an easy fix.
I will get this right. I will. I will! She eyed the line of clearly labeled bottles on the bedside table, each one part of the plan to fix it all. There were more this time than there had been last time, if her reading of the previous notebook was any indication. Her notebook—the one for this time around—poked out of her rucksack like a warning of her future failure.
Just as she was sure she could stand it no longer, there was a great cracking sound outside. Moments later, a soft knock came at the door and she ran to it, her quivering fingers grasping the doorknob as though it might anchor her to the present.
"Looks like you're the younger one this time," Severus said, his lips quirking up in an unpracticed manner under years of well-practiced scowls.
"Not by much," Hermione teased back, pointing out the strip of gray hairs on her temple. "I've been through a war and a decade. I've earned them fair and square."
"Understandable," Severus replied, then shyly, he added, "May I come in?"
"Oh! Of course!" Hermione could feel the awkwardness stretching out between them. To some extent, he'd known all along, but he'd had to pretend not to know her, for really, she hadn't known him, not yet. Not as he was now. She'd known, too, but it had been easy to delude herself. There was a big difference between Severus, the sweet, haunted, shy, brilliant boy who was around her age, and Professor Snape, the scowling dungeon bat.
The cottage was small; one room with a small kitchen against one wall, and a couple of chairs by the fireplace, a modest bed in the corner. Severus sat heavily on the bed, his eyes fixed on Hermione— this older, taller version that he'd never seen before from a time he'd never been— and for a second, Hermione could almost imagine his mind burning the sight of her into his memory so that he might never forget it.
It's been a long time. So much has changed," he said, echoing her thoughts.
It was just as Professor McGonagall had said all those years ago. "Time is a direction, and we've both been traveling alone for a long time," Hermione replied, forcing herself to close the distance between them. She sat next to him and leaned gently against him. The pressure against his side woke something that she'd almost forgotten had ever been there, the energy flaring out to merge with his power, only now, it was….so, so much more.
She sucked in a sharp breath, and they turned to one another in perfect symmetry. The first press of lips went through them both like a shockwave, barreling outward through the span of their lost years. Gasping, they drew away momentarily, only to crash together once more, their bodies finally freed from the prison of solitude they'd been locked behind for years.
"Can you feel it?" Severus whispered into her mouth. He tasted like heat and light and desire, and Hermione could barely catch her breath in her need of him. "Our cores...they're…"
"...as one," Hermione finally moaned. There was something transcending physicality in the pleasure that washed over her. It was not just a merging of bodies, but of something deeper and more intimate. This was more than just a homecoming after a long absence. Their magical cores were resonating in perfect harmony, merging even as their bodies meshed together in the twisted sheets
There was a moment, while she was riding him, their breaths coming hard and fast and their hearts beating together in frantic need, that she felt as though she could see the entire timeline from start to finish laid out in front of her. But this time, she was not alone, and she couldn't help but believe that she never would be again.
Severus had already received an owl confirming the plan, but he still felt incredibly uncomfortable knocking on the door to the rustic cottage nestled high in the mountains. As far as the Dark Lord knew, his mother had died, and Severus would have liked to keep it that way, but for this.
"It's ok, Severus," Hermione said, kissing him on the cheek and squeezing his hand in reassurance. She was still wearing her Mediwitch disguise, which mainly consisted of copious Sleekeazys, a temporary blonde coloring, and a braided bun that ringed the top of her head. The stretcher with the unconscious version of Fifth Year Hermione floated behind them.
Severus only could hope that this was the case. He knocked on the door and listened for movement inside. The door opened suddenly and silently on well-oiled hinges, and the woman who stared back at him was an almost spitting image of himself, only with slimmer shoulders.
"Well," Eileen Snape said, with an arched eyebrow at her son's entwined fingers with the gray-streaked woman beside him, "you'd better come in, then."
"This is Hermione," Severus said, as they sat at the small wooden table with mugs of freshly brewed peppermint tea.
"I know who Hermione Granger is," Eileen said, glancing at the cot and back to the older Hermione seated next to her son. "Both of them."
"How?" Hermione asked, somewhat shocked. The cover story was that the girl was her niece, as they looked alike enough for it to be passed off as a family resemblance. But Eileen's hawk-like eyes didn't miss things and her nature, like Severus' nature, was not one easily mollified by comforting lies and half-truths.
"It's not common," Eileen replied, her voice softening, "but you and my son appear to be core-bound, and it wasn't done as an intentionally-held ritual, either."
She laughed ruefully. "Of course it would be you who would stumble upon the most rare sort of bond known to wizarding kind. No wonder you look like you're about to jump out of your skin, Severus. You knew you couldn't hide it from me. You got the Sight from me, after all."
Hermione looked at him in shock.
"There's a golden light here," Eileen pressed her finger over Hermione's heart, "leading here." She pointed at Severus' heart. And hers is somehow connected to both you and him, but it's in a way I've never seen before. I can only imagine that somehow Time itself has bent for you two."
"I don't know if I should explain—" Hermione began.
"And you shouldn't!" Eileen interrupted. "Bah! What do I care for time? Even knowing your future isn't a guarantee that you can change anything. Divination has taught me that much. I see you here, and I can tell that I have a part to play, so I shall play it. And, as long as the two of you have time together, I wish you every happiness."
Hermione pulled the appropriate medications and instructions to make additional droughts from her rucksack and Eileen looked at them with interest. "Hm! I hadn't thought of using crushed ginseng root instead of finely chopped during the brewing process. I'll owl you and let you know how it goes when I try it for myself."
"I see where you got your love of experimentation," Hermione mentioned to Severus, after they'd bid Eileen farewell.
"How many times have we been here?" Severus said suddenly.
"I can't remember the previous times, you know," Hermone said. "I was left with information after the war ended wrong the last time. But...she left me with these…."
Hermione held up her hand to the light of the setting sun, and Severus squinted at the iridescent lines.
"Five times, then." He frowned.
Had they bonded in body and soul five times before? The fact that neither of them could remember what had come before was terrifying. At least before, when she had come to him, there was a sense of knowing that their time together was protected, for the future was far away. But now the clocks were synced together and running forward, and they only had vague understandings of what had happened the time before. It was like playing tag with a series of ghosts that neither of them could see.
"We have a few more weeks before I have to leave," Hermione said, taking his hand, their fingers lacing together automatically. "It won't be enough...but…"
"It'll never be enough," Severus agreed, "but I will still cherish it."
Once she got to Grimmauld place, polyjuice wasn't hard for Hermione, but constantly dosing herself using her old hair to keep herself appearing the same age as Harry and Ron wasn't nearly as hard as trying to pretend to be the same age as they were. Both of them were so preoccupied with such childish nonsense that Hermione could hardly believe that she'd ever been of a similar mind. Maybe she hadn't, though.
In the evenings, however, she could shudder out of her false form and finally spend a few refreshing hours in her own skin. It wasn't particularly hard to Apparate to the cabin. Severus, for his part, would do the same after occupying that terrible rat, Pettigrew, with some drudgerous task or other and then warding his room inaccessible.
The rest of the summer was a prelude of the year to come, filled with stolen moments in darkness as they further solidified their bond.
A magical core was not exactly like a soul, but from what Hermione understood, it provided an essence of ability to see and create an energy that could be described as "magic." While it could not be easily described in scientific terms, it was a part of her essence that she drew power from that was absent from those born Muggle. It seemed that as their cores merged, the power the two of them could draw from had increased exponentially. Now, Hermione didn't need a wand to cast most mid-level spells, and when they were touching, they could do even more.
"You know, I think I've figured it out," Hermione said, tracing the line of his back with her finger as they lay sated and drowsing together. They would have to leave to their respective lies soon, but for now. "It's you. It's always been you."
"Has it?" His eyes were closed, and his hand snaked under the pillow, searching for her other hand and clasping it gently.
"Yes," Hermione continued, sliding forward to kiss his nose, her fingers lingering on the curve of his hip. "I read the journal. She—I am always alone. I try to solve everything myself and I keep failing. But just think, when I went through the time gate, why did it bring me to you every time?"
Severus' eyes opened at that. "Every time?"
Hermione let out a little laugh at the look on his face. "I had to test it out, you know. See if there was some way I could go back in time far enough and stop You-Know-Who before he got started. But...every time…"
"You came to me." Severus was fully alert now.
"It's our bond, isn't it?" Hermione asked. "I mean, if time is a place, and magic can be used to harness time, then it makes a twisted sort of sense, don't you think?"
"Indeed," Severus said with a nod.
"We know that it's a long road ahead. I know you have your part to play. And I will need to help Harry, prepare him for what is ahead. He holds the key to ending it all. I just wish I could say more!" Hermione brought her free hand to her chest, clenching it tightly.
"Look at me, Hermione," Severus said softly, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. His thumb stroked her cheek and she shivered with delight at the sensation of his touch. "We will find each other when the time comes, and no one will dare stand in our way."
"Promise?" Hermione asked.
His eyes shone as he found the words. "I swear it."
The battle raged on around her, but Hermione was focused on her goal. Harry was her top priority, for it was only through him that this could finally end. She'd stayed by his side even when he'd been at his worst. When they were on the run, the highlight of her day was when she updated Severus through the portrait in her bag. But it wasn't the same having an indirect conversation through a disgruntled magical painting.
She caught a glimpse of him, his face haggard and grim, and she knew that she looked similarly. She was lucky that her stash of Polyjuice hid the worst of it, but it didn't change how weary she felt.
If we could only touch, all would be well, she thought. The scar on her arm twinged as she used every bit of willpower to follow Harry. There will be time later. There's always time. I have to believe it.
It had all been a lie. There would be no time.
She had been forced to watch him die, and she could do nothing to stop it. She'd watched as the life left his eyes and all she could do was run along behind Harry like a puppy. But this time, Harry dispatched Voldemort without incident, and the casualties were very few. In fact, Hermione was utterly surprised to find that only Mad Eye had fallen when the dust settled.
Harry, of course, finally knew the truth about Snape, but it was too little, too late. He was gone.
In the aftermath, Hermione ran to the forest, to the place she'd warded in level upon levels of protection that allowed only herself or Severus to enter. As the wards admitted her, the sound and smells of the aftermath of the battle melted away. It was almost as though she were in a completely different world. There, in the center, was a tent, set up by Severus while he was Headmaster. She felt her breath catch in her throat when she realized he would never share it with her again.
Inside, there were some provisions, including a small two way magic mirror.
"You can send her now," Hermione said, calling out to the other side of the mirror.
"He's gone, isn't he?" Eileen's voice was matter-of-fact.
"I couldn't save him," Hermione's voice caught and thickened with grief.
"Just because you couldn't, doesn't mean you can't," Eileen replied, her voice somehow both tired and exhausted.
"What?" Hermione hiccuped, trying desperately to stop her tears from falling.
"You heard me. Now get ready; she's on her way." Eileen's face disappeared from the mirror, and Hermione stood, her eyes catching on the iridescent lines on her wrist as she grabbed the rucksack with all of the information that her younger self would need to do things over and the instructions on burning it when she was done.
Hermione hesitated, her finger absently tracing each line. Was she really going to do everything over again? Send herself on a wild goose chase for a future where everything went perfectly?
Just because you couldn't, doesn't mean you can't.
Hermione froze, the realization dawning over her as the Polyjuice began to fail. Her body stretched and aged in a moment, a streak of bushy silver hair running down the left side of her head.
The stretcher with her younger self appeared outside the tent, and Hermione marveled at just how young she looked.
This girl would wake and carry a sense of loss for the rest of her life. Hermione could not bear it.
"Time is a direction," she said softly, as she pulled out her wand, "and every change becomes what always was." Carefully she drew silvery memories from her younger self's head, for she knew exactly where to pull them. Each one, she bottled and tucked into her pockets.
"You might not believe me, but I'm setting you free," Hermione said, gently kissing her younger self's forehead. She'd realized something. This Hermione was not herself, not anymore. With each choice she'd made, Hermione had become a different person, as different from herself at thirteen as she was at fifteen or even at twenty-one.
She wasn't going to be satisfied by playing by the established rules, not anymore. She tossed her notebook into the air and immolated it with a silent spell as it fell. By the time it hit the ground, it was ash.
With that, Hermione poured an enervating potion down the throat of the Other Hermione, and stode quickly to the time rune stone. Tracing it was an almost unconscious act, and, as the full moon rose above them, she willed herself to his side once more.
Severus ran through the forest, not caring where he was going, half-mad as he shouted about looking for Potter, for he knew where the boy went, so would Hermione.
Suddenly, everything went silent, and he only realized belatedly that he'd inadvertently run right into the ring of wards. The tent sat in the middle like a promise, and he ached to wait for her here. He knew it was impossible, though. He had to find that blasted boy, keep him from the Dark Lord, and only after that could he hope to—
"Ah!" Severus found himself lurching to the side as a familiar weight flew into him, knocking him on his back. The effect was immediate. They both felt a rush of power and serenity in their bodies as their bond replenished itself.
"I thought I'd lost you," Hermione said, failing miserably at losing her hold on him. She stroked his face and kissed him deeply and he moaned softly at the pleasure of her touch, his hands shaking as he held onto her, neither of them paying any mind to the musky smell of leaves and earth surrounding them.
"I'm here. I'm right here," he whispered.
"Your mum was the one who reminded me. Just because I couldn't save you then, doesn't mean I can't now."
"How many of our people die?" Severus' voice was very quiet.
"Only one. We were able to do a final count."
"You know that I still have to go there, or it will undo everything we've worked so hard for," Severus said slowly.
"Yes, but before you do, I want to give this to you." Hermione rummaged in her robes and pulled out a small capsule.
"This has antivenin in it. You keep it in your mouth, behind your tongue. It activates when you bite down on it. Promise me you'll use it."
"Ah, so it'll be the snake, then. I always thought he'd do the honor of dispatching me himself." Severus took the capsule and placed it under his tongue. "Anything else?
"I stole this from Harry," Hermione said, pulling the Invisibility Cloak from her pocket. She grinned at Severus' shocked reaction. "By the way, may I say that Undetectable Extension Charms and pockets are the best thing since sliced bread?"
"Consider me impressed," he replied as she threw it over her head.
Severus feld her invisible fingers intertwined with his. "Don't worry. I'll stay with you until the end."
He swallowed thickly as he thought of what lay ahead. "Thank you, Hermione. Remember, no matter what happens, I love you."
"I love you, too, Severus." She squeezed his hand and with that, they left the clearing behind to meet their fate.
On a hill near the ocean, a bright cottage nestled itself into the trees. There were stories, as there alway were, about the family that lived there. Some said that the man was an old Navy captain, others said that the woman was a former Russian spy, despite the fact that she neither spoke Russian nor had an accent. They were polite, but they generally kept to themselves.
Their children, however, were a different story. The eldest was hard working and well-liked by those around him, his dark curly hair the envy of male and female peers alike. The twins, a girl and boy, who were known for their scientific curiosity and hyperfocus on inventing new things, though some of those inventions had the habit of exploding. Then there was the youngest, all ringlets and warm brown eyes and sunshine in her eyes. This was a beguiling child who could charm the sun from the sky and convince the most hateful of enemies to settle their differences. It was she who captured the hearts of the little village in the valley below, and all who knew her loved her.
Sometimes, she would crawl onto the sofa while her parents read or worked on their various projects, both together and apart, and she would ask them how they met.
"Oh, it was a long time ago, now," her mother would say, smiling knowingly at her father. "There were many times where we could not be together. And I nearly lost your father more than a few times."
"But no matter what, you found me," he added, taking his wife's hand and squeezing it gently, "And for that, I will always be eternally grateful, my love."
Hermione tapped her chest gently where the bright thread of light tied her magical core to her husband's and bent forward to kiss him softly, the thrum of their shared power filling her heart to bursting. "Until the end of time."