"Ow! God dammit. . ." Hermione hissed, as she reached her hand out
from under the warmth of Dumbledore's cloak, to rub the top of her head.
"There's the cellar door," Dumbledore said, reaching up and pushing it outwards.
The basement was quite cluttered; barrels and crates were stacked up against the wooden walls, which appeared to be in need of a good amount of dusting.
"There's the staircase up to Honeydukes over there," Dumbledore whispered, pointing straight ahead. After a quick glance around to make sure no one was there, both jogged towards the staircase and trotted, lightly, up the splintery wooden steps. Hermione began to hear the busy, chatting voices and creaking floorboards under the weight of the many customers above. The large number of people made it much easier for them to slip into the crowd from around the counter, unnoticed.
"It's always so busy in here," Dumbledore said, now bustling towards a rather large display of sweets.
"Oh look, sugar quills!" Hermione exclaimed.
"And lemon drops,"
"And toffees,"
"And Fizzing Whizzbees,"
"And Bertie Botts,"
"Ah ha! And yes, by golly they finally got in a new shipment of sherbet lemon!" Dumbledore roared, proudly holding up a neatly tied purple package.
Hermione gave him a toothy grin. She found the childish joy that Dumbledore received from the candy shop simply adorable. The excitement he felt over the littlest of things made Hermione even more thrilled about being there with him. She watched him happily bounce from one display to another, popping incredibly large amounts of nearly everything into his satchel.
"Hey Hermione, did you see the chocolates!?"
"Ooh, do they have dark chocolate?" she asked, it was her favorite.
"Naturally! What kind of sweet shop would this be without such a necessity as dark chocolate?"
"Of course," she giggled, stuffing a few coconut clusters in her bag.
After a few more moments of ogling the abundant sweet stands, Dumbledore and Hermione paid for their candy, and left the store.
"Where shall we go next?" Hermione asked, looking around, trying to figure out what exactly was different about Hogsmeade.
"How about The Three Broomsticks? Have you ever tried a glass of Butterbeer? It warms the heart. . ." he grinned, placing his hand over his chest.
"Sure! I love butterbeer!" she exclaimed.
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. There was a brief pause before he decided to open his mouth, and speak what had clearly been rattling around in his brain. "I suppose Hogsmeade doesn't seem too different, eh?"
"Oh no it's. . ." Hermione stopped short, before looking up at him, and continuing, "it's exactly the same."
Dumbledore chuckled. "I assumed so, judging by your reaction towards Honeydukes. No one who enters that shop for the first time restrains themselves to simply 5 coconut clusters, 4 sugar quills, one pound of toffees and one pound of Bertie Botts! There's not one witch nor wizard alive who possesses that kind of self control, I mean. . . honestly. . ." He held his head briefly, as if attempting to contemplate such an occurrence, and failing. Hermione rolled her eyes and kissed him on the cheek.
"Alright, you caught me. So the town's the same, the shops are the same, the castle is the same. Happy?"
Dumbledore grinned and nodded. "I knew you were holding back. You can tell so very easily when something reminds you of home. . ."
Hermione's eyes widened. A small gasp escaped her lips, as she reeled her head back to look into his face. A knowing look seemed to have been etched upon his features. She continued to stare, intensely, attempting to read his expression. Did he know? He. . .he couldn't. . .
"Hermione, the first time we met, after I told you my name. . . you mumbled Dumbledore again, as if you'd heard it before. I may be completely wrong; please, correct me if I am. . . however," he paused, unsure as to how to continue. Hermione had no idea what to say. How could she keep on lying to him like this? What was the point of concealing the truth, anyhow? If she simply told him that yes, she knew him, then perhaps that would be enough. She wouldn't have to tell him of his future position as Headmaster at Hogwarts. Because if she did, who knows how that would upset the timeline. But the thing that terrified her, that kept her hiding the truth, was exactly that: what if she accidentally changed history for the worst? What if some sort of action she performs here prevents him from achieving all of the marvelous things she knew he was destined for? He was a necessity in the future to help defeat Lord Voldemort, and save the life of Harry.
"I suppose you can't tell me, can you?"
Hermione shook her head. She must have been silent for longer than she thought.
"Don't worry, I completely understand," he said winking at her. This brightened her, slightly, but that didn't stop the tears from brimming in the corners of her eyes. Something inside her was tearing itself apart. She so longed to tell him everything. To explain to him how much she cared for him, to confess her awareness of what he would become, and to completely entrench herself in the feelings which were undeniably brewing inside of her. Unable to stand it any longer, Hermione threw her arms tightly around his middle, and squeezed herself close to him. It didn't take long for him to embrace her in return.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, still attempting to hold back her tears. She was comforted by an even tighter squeeze. After a few more moments, Dumbledore gently let go, and reached his arm up to tilt her head back by her chin; his fingers were soft and warm against her skin. Hermione's tears seemed to be illuminating the swirling shades of brown in her eyes, as she gazed deeply into his warm, blue ones. Slowly, the two leaned towards each other, and kissed. Warmth immediately spread throughout Hermione's body. His hands, which had been holding up her chin before, had slid back into her hair. His fingers worked their way gently through her scalp, massaging and tickling the roots of her hair. Hermione's muscles seemed to give way to his touch, as her arms glided heavily down his back, and to her sides. The kiss then became all the more gentle and loving, as Dumbledore delicately placed both hands on her hips, and pulled her closer to him.
Hermione felt as though this could go on forever.
'Too bad it can't'
It was the voice again. 'If you keep this up, he'll remember for sure, and then it'll be over. You'll be taken back.'
The tears threatened to start flowing more heavily again.
'NO!' screamed another voice; a new one, a strong one. 'No, you will not ruin your happiness with him. You know it's inevitable that you go back, staying would be foolish. You belong with your parents, Harry, Ron, and everyone else you've grown close to over the years. So why not enjoy your time while you're here? Why not savor the love you've found?'
And with that, the hidden passion she felt welled inside of her was released, and the kiss became more and more heated.
* * *
Hermione sank down into the plush, brightly colored armchair which sat facing a flickering fire in Gryffindor Tower. Dumbledore was currently walking up to the boy's dormitory, after kissing her lightly on the cheek, and giving her right shoulder a gentle squeeze goodbye. Nearly everyone who had been situated in the common room at the time stared at the two, appalled by the blatant display of affection they showed towards one another. Hermione really didn't care; back at home, it wouldn't have surprised her terribly to see a couple like Fred Weasley and Angelina Johnson making out in a corner. A kiss on the cheek hardly seemed like the scandal of the century.
She leaned back, lifted her feet and rested them atop an overly stuffed footstool. Her nose felt cold, numb and red; and her limbs ached with exhaustion. She always found this feeling somewhat rewarding, the feeling that she had accomplished something physically demanding, therefore justifying her relaxed state. Her dry eyes delicately shut, in an attempt to close out all outer noise.
What a day it had been. She had finally come to grips with her feelings towards Dumbledore, and he knew it too (Hermione was pretty sure passionate tongue kissing delivered the message quite nicely). Now all she had to do was cope with her extreme discomfort concerning the elder Dumbledore. She received the sudden urge to ram her head into a wall, or dig herself a hole every time her mind wandered towards him. How could she possibly explain it to him if and when he remembered all of this? The mere thought of him, sitting at his desk, scribbling down one important letter or another and suddenly being blind sided with the memory of her, shall we say, rather robust performance that day was too much for her. She hastily massaged her temples in an effort to rub the thought away.
'Dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit!' her mind screeched, as the image began fading slightly. Suddenly, she found she couldn't bear to sit still. Ripping herself upright and propelling herself to a standing position, she marched towards the stairs leading to the girls' dormitories.
"Hermione Granger!"
Hermione froze in mid step. Oh God, who could that be. She quickly turned around only to be faced with a pimply blonde haired boy sporting a Gryffindor prefect badge.
"Yes, that would be me," she called, trying to get his attention.
With a haughty sigh, he thrust his arm outward, and began waving a piece of parchment at her.
"Thanks," she mumbled, snatching the paper out of his hand. The boy's upper lip curled, and with a short nod, he turned and strutted towards the exit. Hermione rolled her eyes, and unraveled the parchment.
Dear Ms. Granger:
It is the unfortunate duty of the Ministry of Magic to inform you that we have failed in the attempt of inventing a suitable time turner for your return to said time period of January 5th, 2003. We offer our most sincere condolences.
Sincerely,
Minister of Magic Mortuous Pigwaddle
Hermione had almost completely forgotten that the people here had been working to get her back, as well. She had never really expected them to be able to do anything; their original promises had seemed hollow, and hopeless. But there was something about seeing it written in print, that there was no way the Ministry of Magic could help, that somewhat disturbed her. Now here hope solely lay with Dumbledore. . . She was suddenly feeling quite melancholy. Her mind fogged over, almost consciously sparing her of all the concerns and worries which scurried frantically around her brain. In a somewhat dreamy state, she turned around, and headed towards the Gryffindor guest chambers.
"There's the cellar door," Dumbledore said, reaching up and pushing it outwards.
The basement was quite cluttered; barrels and crates were stacked up against the wooden walls, which appeared to be in need of a good amount of dusting.
"There's the staircase up to Honeydukes over there," Dumbledore whispered, pointing straight ahead. After a quick glance around to make sure no one was there, both jogged towards the staircase and trotted, lightly, up the splintery wooden steps. Hermione began to hear the busy, chatting voices and creaking floorboards under the weight of the many customers above. The large number of people made it much easier for them to slip into the crowd from around the counter, unnoticed.
"It's always so busy in here," Dumbledore said, now bustling towards a rather large display of sweets.
"Oh look, sugar quills!" Hermione exclaimed.
"And lemon drops,"
"And toffees,"
"And Fizzing Whizzbees,"
"And Bertie Botts,"
"Ah ha! And yes, by golly they finally got in a new shipment of sherbet lemon!" Dumbledore roared, proudly holding up a neatly tied purple package.
Hermione gave him a toothy grin. She found the childish joy that Dumbledore received from the candy shop simply adorable. The excitement he felt over the littlest of things made Hermione even more thrilled about being there with him. She watched him happily bounce from one display to another, popping incredibly large amounts of nearly everything into his satchel.
"Hey Hermione, did you see the chocolates!?"
"Ooh, do they have dark chocolate?" she asked, it was her favorite.
"Naturally! What kind of sweet shop would this be without such a necessity as dark chocolate?"
"Of course," she giggled, stuffing a few coconut clusters in her bag.
After a few more moments of ogling the abundant sweet stands, Dumbledore and Hermione paid for their candy, and left the store.
"Where shall we go next?" Hermione asked, looking around, trying to figure out what exactly was different about Hogsmeade.
"How about The Three Broomsticks? Have you ever tried a glass of Butterbeer? It warms the heart. . ." he grinned, placing his hand over his chest.
"Sure! I love butterbeer!" she exclaimed.
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. There was a brief pause before he decided to open his mouth, and speak what had clearly been rattling around in his brain. "I suppose Hogsmeade doesn't seem too different, eh?"
"Oh no it's. . ." Hermione stopped short, before looking up at him, and continuing, "it's exactly the same."
Dumbledore chuckled. "I assumed so, judging by your reaction towards Honeydukes. No one who enters that shop for the first time restrains themselves to simply 5 coconut clusters, 4 sugar quills, one pound of toffees and one pound of Bertie Botts! There's not one witch nor wizard alive who possesses that kind of self control, I mean. . . honestly. . ." He held his head briefly, as if attempting to contemplate such an occurrence, and failing. Hermione rolled her eyes and kissed him on the cheek.
"Alright, you caught me. So the town's the same, the shops are the same, the castle is the same. Happy?"
Dumbledore grinned and nodded. "I knew you were holding back. You can tell so very easily when something reminds you of home. . ."
Hermione's eyes widened. A small gasp escaped her lips, as she reeled her head back to look into his face. A knowing look seemed to have been etched upon his features. She continued to stare, intensely, attempting to read his expression. Did he know? He. . .he couldn't. . .
"Hermione, the first time we met, after I told you my name. . . you mumbled Dumbledore again, as if you'd heard it before. I may be completely wrong; please, correct me if I am. . . however," he paused, unsure as to how to continue. Hermione had no idea what to say. How could she keep on lying to him like this? What was the point of concealing the truth, anyhow? If she simply told him that yes, she knew him, then perhaps that would be enough. She wouldn't have to tell him of his future position as Headmaster at Hogwarts. Because if she did, who knows how that would upset the timeline. But the thing that terrified her, that kept her hiding the truth, was exactly that: what if she accidentally changed history for the worst? What if some sort of action she performs here prevents him from achieving all of the marvelous things she knew he was destined for? He was a necessity in the future to help defeat Lord Voldemort, and save the life of Harry.
"I suppose you can't tell me, can you?"
Hermione shook her head. She must have been silent for longer than she thought.
"Don't worry, I completely understand," he said winking at her. This brightened her, slightly, but that didn't stop the tears from brimming in the corners of her eyes. Something inside her was tearing itself apart. She so longed to tell him everything. To explain to him how much she cared for him, to confess her awareness of what he would become, and to completely entrench herself in the feelings which were undeniably brewing inside of her. Unable to stand it any longer, Hermione threw her arms tightly around his middle, and squeezed herself close to him. It didn't take long for him to embrace her in return.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, still attempting to hold back her tears. She was comforted by an even tighter squeeze. After a few more moments, Dumbledore gently let go, and reached his arm up to tilt her head back by her chin; his fingers were soft and warm against her skin. Hermione's tears seemed to be illuminating the swirling shades of brown in her eyes, as she gazed deeply into his warm, blue ones. Slowly, the two leaned towards each other, and kissed. Warmth immediately spread throughout Hermione's body. His hands, which had been holding up her chin before, had slid back into her hair. His fingers worked their way gently through her scalp, massaging and tickling the roots of her hair. Hermione's muscles seemed to give way to his touch, as her arms glided heavily down his back, and to her sides. The kiss then became all the more gentle and loving, as Dumbledore delicately placed both hands on her hips, and pulled her closer to him.
Hermione felt as though this could go on forever.
'Too bad it can't'
It was the voice again. 'If you keep this up, he'll remember for sure, and then it'll be over. You'll be taken back.'
The tears threatened to start flowing more heavily again.
'NO!' screamed another voice; a new one, a strong one. 'No, you will not ruin your happiness with him. You know it's inevitable that you go back, staying would be foolish. You belong with your parents, Harry, Ron, and everyone else you've grown close to over the years. So why not enjoy your time while you're here? Why not savor the love you've found?'
And with that, the hidden passion she felt welled inside of her was released, and the kiss became more and more heated.
* * *
Hermione sank down into the plush, brightly colored armchair which sat facing a flickering fire in Gryffindor Tower. Dumbledore was currently walking up to the boy's dormitory, after kissing her lightly on the cheek, and giving her right shoulder a gentle squeeze goodbye. Nearly everyone who had been situated in the common room at the time stared at the two, appalled by the blatant display of affection they showed towards one another. Hermione really didn't care; back at home, it wouldn't have surprised her terribly to see a couple like Fred Weasley and Angelina Johnson making out in a corner. A kiss on the cheek hardly seemed like the scandal of the century.
She leaned back, lifted her feet and rested them atop an overly stuffed footstool. Her nose felt cold, numb and red; and her limbs ached with exhaustion. She always found this feeling somewhat rewarding, the feeling that she had accomplished something physically demanding, therefore justifying her relaxed state. Her dry eyes delicately shut, in an attempt to close out all outer noise.
What a day it had been. She had finally come to grips with her feelings towards Dumbledore, and he knew it too (Hermione was pretty sure passionate tongue kissing delivered the message quite nicely). Now all she had to do was cope with her extreme discomfort concerning the elder Dumbledore. She received the sudden urge to ram her head into a wall, or dig herself a hole every time her mind wandered towards him. How could she possibly explain it to him if and when he remembered all of this? The mere thought of him, sitting at his desk, scribbling down one important letter or another and suddenly being blind sided with the memory of her, shall we say, rather robust performance that day was too much for her. She hastily massaged her temples in an effort to rub the thought away.
'Dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit!' her mind screeched, as the image began fading slightly. Suddenly, she found she couldn't bear to sit still. Ripping herself upright and propelling herself to a standing position, she marched towards the stairs leading to the girls' dormitories.
"Hermione Granger!"
Hermione froze in mid step. Oh God, who could that be. She quickly turned around only to be faced with a pimply blonde haired boy sporting a Gryffindor prefect badge.
"Yes, that would be me," she called, trying to get his attention.
With a haughty sigh, he thrust his arm outward, and began waving a piece of parchment at her.
"Thanks," she mumbled, snatching the paper out of his hand. The boy's upper lip curled, and with a short nod, he turned and strutted towards the exit. Hermione rolled her eyes, and unraveled the parchment.
Dear Ms. Granger:
It is the unfortunate duty of the Ministry of Magic to inform you that we have failed in the attempt of inventing a suitable time turner for your return to said time period of January 5th, 2003. We offer our most sincere condolences.
Sincerely,
Minister of Magic Mortuous Pigwaddle
Hermione had almost completely forgotten that the people here had been working to get her back, as well. She had never really expected them to be able to do anything; their original promises had seemed hollow, and hopeless. But there was something about seeing it written in print, that there was no way the Ministry of Magic could help, that somewhat disturbed her. Now here hope solely lay with Dumbledore. . . She was suddenly feeling quite melancholy. Her mind fogged over, almost consciously sparing her of all the concerns and worries which scurried frantically around her brain. In a somewhat dreamy state, she turned around, and headed towards the Gryffindor guest chambers.