The idea of Hermione's hidden location came to me while I was reading
Serpentina's fic, From This Day On (It's great, give it a go!), and she
graciously has allowed me to steal - to adapt her idea for this story.
Thanks gel, you're fab!
*~*~*
Sirius poked the fire half-heartedly, and sat back, casting worried glances towards the open door. In the room beyond, Hermione had cried herself into a fitful sleep, and each tormented sound she made was agony on his ears. For himself, he hadn't even realised Harry was gone until he'd made it into the room. He'd been too concerned with removing Wormtail from the vicinity.
'It's a terrible blow for her,' he said to his companion, who nodded absently.
Snape was gazing out into the shadows of the night, intent on anything that might pose a threat to Hermione.
He was examining his attitude towards her. For seven years she had been the perfect student (Sorted into the wrong House in his opinion), and the best mind Snape had ever had the privilege to teach. Then it had all changed when she found out about her heritage. He had become no longer just a professor, but a protector as well, an occupation he had so far managed to hide from Voldemort during his regular summoning.
Then the Dark Lord had stolen her. Snape's fists clenched unconsciously. He had been the first to suggest a rescue party, unable to bear the thought of what Voldemort could be doing to Hermione. The haunted look on her face when she had careered into Weasley, that had remained in her eyes to remind them of the horrors she had witnessed at the hands of her own father, tortured him night and day.
He could still see her lying in the undergrowth, her hope gone, as she waited for death to claim her. He heard again her quiet sobs, his less than adequate reassurance. The feel of her small body curled into his arms, her head resting trustingly against his shoulder.
Snape shook his head slightly, his dark eyes casting about the darkness. When had she become more than a student to him? He couldn't remember. She just was, a beautiful, intelligent young woman, who had ensnared his soul. She had the power to make him or break him. And she was mourning for Potter. His fists clenched again. He had come second to a Potter again.
An itch began in his left arm. He absently scratched at it, paying no mind to the warning bells in the back of his mind. His thoughts were on Hermione. Then searing pain shot through his arm, causing him to grunt in agony.
Sirius looked up in alarm, seeing Snape clutching his Death-Mark, his thin lips clenched tightly together.
'I'd better get you to Dumbledore,' he said, rising from the hearth.
Snape shook his head violently.
'I am quite able to find my own way, Black,' he snapped, staggering to the door. 'Miss Granger needs your protection more than I do.'
He threw open the door and hurried down the hallway towards the Headmaster's office.
*~*~*
Hermione wandered through the hallways, vaguely aware of Sirius at her shoulder. She seemed to be living in a dream, a nightmare from which she could not wake. Her father was Voldemort, Muggles killed for her disobedience, her boyfriend murdered . . . it was too much for her to cope with.
Sirius glanced at her, worried. Hermione hadn't spoken a word since Harry's death, her sleep was disturbed. She seemed cut off, somehow, from the world she inhabited. When he spoke to her, her answers were vague, her smile absent. Cinnamon eyes, that had seen too much for her tender years, were haunted by the memory of the nights she spent in the Tower.
They reached the gargoyle, who took one look at Hermione's face and stepped aside without a word. It stopped Sirius as he slipped past.
'How is the young miss, sir?'
The man glanced at the waiting girl.
'As well as can be expected. She hasn't spoken for three days.'
The stony face creased in concern.
'That can't be good,' it said. 'All us gargoyles and house-elves are worried, sir. Miss Hermione's always been a friend to us, regardless of her parentage.'
Sirius gave the gargoyle a reassuring smile.
'Don't worry. Dumbledore'll set her straight.'
They ascended the stairs, Sirius ushering Hermione through the rich oak door into Dumbledore's office. The old wizard broke off his conversation and gave her a smile. Snape quickly stood, offering Hermione his chair. She accepted it, her face composed. As the Headmaster settled into his armchair to speak with her, Snape moved over to where Sirius stood by the door.
'How is she?'
'Not good. You?'
'You do not want to know.'
They left quickly, leaving Hermione alone with Dumbledore.
'Now, Hermione, how are you?'
The simple question was so warmly put, and so heart-felt, that Hermione felt the tears welling up again. Before she could stop herself, she had burst into tears. Dumbledore came to her side, wrapping his arms about her shaking shoulders as she sobbed into his robes. Slowly she calmed, pushing away with an apologetic smile. Fawkes cooed softly from his perch, flying over to sit on the arm of her chair. He began to cry, his tears falling onto Hermione's breast. Dumbledore smiled fondly at his phoenix.
'I'm sorry, Fawkes, I don't think this is the type of hurt you can heal.'
Hermione gave the bird a grateful look, reaching out to stroke his downy feathers. Fawkes pushed his head against her fingers, prompting a hesitant delighted smile to form on her lips. The Headmaster glanced between them.
'I could be wrong, of course,' he muttered in an amused tone, returning to his seat.
He watched them silently for a few moments, biting down a grin as Hermione suddenly seemed to realise where she was. She turned back to him, curiosity in her eyes.
'You wanted to see me, Headmaster?'
'Yes, Hermione.'
The old wizard's voice was grave.
'I'm afraid we have received word that you are no longer safe here with us. Professor Snape was called to Voldemort's side last night, and he has orders to return you to your father by any means necessary.'
Hermione gasped, fear filling her being as she realised there was nowhere else for her to go. Fawkes rubbed his head reassuringly on her arm, distracting her from any morbid thoughts that rose in her head. Dumbledore continued,
'I'm sure you realise we cannot afford to lose either you or Professor Snape. Therefore, I have come to the conclusion that there is only one place we can hide you.'
'Where?'
He smiled sadly.
'In time, Hermione. In the past, or the future, within your own lifetime. It is the only way we can ensure your safety until this is over.'
Hermione looked horrified, but even she, in her abused state, could see the logic behind such a decision. Her quick mind latched on to the consequences of such a move, and began to work through the pros and cons of the past and future. Dumbledore was relieved to see that her intellect had not been affected by her traumatic experiences, and was soon fielding many questions from her.
'The choice is yours, Hermione. No one else can make it for you.'
She nodded slowly, already knowing which way she would go. Her heart couldn't take seeing Harry again, she would never want to leave. The future was her only hope of escaping her father's legacy. The phoenix beside her cooed softly, gazing up at her curiously. She glanced up, to see the Headmaster looking at her, a question in his blue eyes.
'I understand, Professor,' Hermione said, her voice surprising her with its levelness. 'And I agree. The future is the only place I can hide.'
Dumbledore nodded sadly, reaching into his desk for something.
'I believe you are familiar with the use of one of these?'
The Time-Turner dangled from his hand. Hermione smiled, remembering her third year and the extra hours of work she had put in with that innocent- looking device.
'I believe I am, Professor.'
'Then take it, Hermione. Try ten years from now. It should be easy enough to reach. You don't have to leave immediately, but I will expect you gone by nightfall. You are no longer safe.'
Taking the delicate magical device, Hermione nodded, knowing the seriousness of her decision. Dumbledore came around the desk again, enveloping her in a hug.
'Take care, Hermione. You could be our last hope.'
Tearfully, Hermione hugged the old man back, releasing him in time to hear him mutter,
'And I dread to think what Minerva would do to me should anything happen to you.'
With a quiet laugh, she left the room, concealing the Time-Turner in her robes. She had understood the unspoken command to keep her mission a secret.
Sirius met her by the gargoyle, Snape sweeping past without a backward glance at her. For some reason that hurt Hermione, but she couldn't, for the life of her, work out why.
Walking through the hallways, back to her rooms, she was aware that Sirius was itching to know what had been said. He remained silent, however, choosing to let her decide when she would tell him. Hermione turned to him before she disappeared into her bedroom.
'Sirius, take care of yourself, okay?'
Confused, he readily agreed, unaware that this could be the last time he would ever see her. He was even more puzzled when she threw her arms about his neck, holding him close and making him promise not to get himself killed.
'Hermione, what's going on?'
She gave him a sad smile.
'I can't say. I'm sorry.'
He smiled back, dismissing her outburst as a touch of paranoia.
'Goodnight, Hermione.'
'Night.'
She shut the door, and gazed about the little room. Removing the Time- Turner from her robes, she examined it, slowly going over what it was she would have to do to reach the time Dumbledore had suggested. Taking a deep breath, she set the little device and turned it, feeling the room lurch around her.
Stale air constricted her throat, making her cough. Unable to breathe through the dust that suddenly coated everything around her, Hermione stumbled over to the window, fighting with the catch to allow some fresh air into the room. In desperation, she punched at the glass, hearing it shatter as she collapsed onto the floor, unconscious.
*~*~*
Sirius poked the fire half-heartedly, and sat back, casting worried glances towards the open door. In the room beyond, Hermione had cried herself into a fitful sleep, and each tormented sound she made was agony on his ears. For himself, he hadn't even realised Harry was gone until he'd made it into the room. He'd been too concerned with removing Wormtail from the vicinity.
'It's a terrible blow for her,' he said to his companion, who nodded absently.
Snape was gazing out into the shadows of the night, intent on anything that might pose a threat to Hermione.
He was examining his attitude towards her. For seven years she had been the perfect student (Sorted into the wrong House in his opinion), and the best mind Snape had ever had the privilege to teach. Then it had all changed when she found out about her heritage. He had become no longer just a professor, but a protector as well, an occupation he had so far managed to hide from Voldemort during his regular summoning.
Then the Dark Lord had stolen her. Snape's fists clenched unconsciously. He had been the first to suggest a rescue party, unable to bear the thought of what Voldemort could be doing to Hermione. The haunted look on her face when she had careered into Weasley, that had remained in her eyes to remind them of the horrors she had witnessed at the hands of her own father, tortured him night and day.
He could still see her lying in the undergrowth, her hope gone, as she waited for death to claim her. He heard again her quiet sobs, his less than adequate reassurance. The feel of her small body curled into his arms, her head resting trustingly against his shoulder.
Snape shook his head slightly, his dark eyes casting about the darkness. When had she become more than a student to him? He couldn't remember. She just was, a beautiful, intelligent young woman, who had ensnared his soul. She had the power to make him or break him. And she was mourning for Potter. His fists clenched again. He had come second to a Potter again.
An itch began in his left arm. He absently scratched at it, paying no mind to the warning bells in the back of his mind. His thoughts were on Hermione. Then searing pain shot through his arm, causing him to grunt in agony.
Sirius looked up in alarm, seeing Snape clutching his Death-Mark, his thin lips clenched tightly together.
'I'd better get you to Dumbledore,' he said, rising from the hearth.
Snape shook his head violently.
'I am quite able to find my own way, Black,' he snapped, staggering to the door. 'Miss Granger needs your protection more than I do.'
He threw open the door and hurried down the hallway towards the Headmaster's office.
*~*~*
Hermione wandered through the hallways, vaguely aware of Sirius at her shoulder. She seemed to be living in a dream, a nightmare from which she could not wake. Her father was Voldemort, Muggles killed for her disobedience, her boyfriend murdered . . . it was too much for her to cope with.
Sirius glanced at her, worried. Hermione hadn't spoken a word since Harry's death, her sleep was disturbed. She seemed cut off, somehow, from the world she inhabited. When he spoke to her, her answers were vague, her smile absent. Cinnamon eyes, that had seen too much for her tender years, were haunted by the memory of the nights she spent in the Tower.
They reached the gargoyle, who took one look at Hermione's face and stepped aside without a word. It stopped Sirius as he slipped past.
'How is the young miss, sir?'
The man glanced at the waiting girl.
'As well as can be expected. She hasn't spoken for three days.'
The stony face creased in concern.
'That can't be good,' it said. 'All us gargoyles and house-elves are worried, sir. Miss Hermione's always been a friend to us, regardless of her parentage.'
Sirius gave the gargoyle a reassuring smile.
'Don't worry. Dumbledore'll set her straight.'
They ascended the stairs, Sirius ushering Hermione through the rich oak door into Dumbledore's office. The old wizard broke off his conversation and gave her a smile. Snape quickly stood, offering Hermione his chair. She accepted it, her face composed. As the Headmaster settled into his armchair to speak with her, Snape moved over to where Sirius stood by the door.
'How is she?'
'Not good. You?'
'You do not want to know.'
They left quickly, leaving Hermione alone with Dumbledore.
'Now, Hermione, how are you?'
The simple question was so warmly put, and so heart-felt, that Hermione felt the tears welling up again. Before she could stop herself, she had burst into tears. Dumbledore came to her side, wrapping his arms about her shaking shoulders as she sobbed into his robes. Slowly she calmed, pushing away with an apologetic smile. Fawkes cooed softly from his perch, flying over to sit on the arm of her chair. He began to cry, his tears falling onto Hermione's breast. Dumbledore smiled fondly at his phoenix.
'I'm sorry, Fawkes, I don't think this is the type of hurt you can heal.'
Hermione gave the bird a grateful look, reaching out to stroke his downy feathers. Fawkes pushed his head against her fingers, prompting a hesitant delighted smile to form on her lips. The Headmaster glanced between them.
'I could be wrong, of course,' he muttered in an amused tone, returning to his seat.
He watched them silently for a few moments, biting down a grin as Hermione suddenly seemed to realise where she was. She turned back to him, curiosity in her eyes.
'You wanted to see me, Headmaster?'
'Yes, Hermione.'
The old wizard's voice was grave.
'I'm afraid we have received word that you are no longer safe here with us. Professor Snape was called to Voldemort's side last night, and he has orders to return you to your father by any means necessary.'
Hermione gasped, fear filling her being as she realised there was nowhere else for her to go. Fawkes rubbed his head reassuringly on her arm, distracting her from any morbid thoughts that rose in her head. Dumbledore continued,
'I'm sure you realise we cannot afford to lose either you or Professor Snape. Therefore, I have come to the conclusion that there is only one place we can hide you.'
'Where?'
He smiled sadly.
'In time, Hermione. In the past, or the future, within your own lifetime. It is the only way we can ensure your safety until this is over.'
Hermione looked horrified, but even she, in her abused state, could see the logic behind such a decision. Her quick mind latched on to the consequences of such a move, and began to work through the pros and cons of the past and future. Dumbledore was relieved to see that her intellect had not been affected by her traumatic experiences, and was soon fielding many questions from her.
'The choice is yours, Hermione. No one else can make it for you.'
She nodded slowly, already knowing which way she would go. Her heart couldn't take seeing Harry again, she would never want to leave. The future was her only hope of escaping her father's legacy. The phoenix beside her cooed softly, gazing up at her curiously. She glanced up, to see the Headmaster looking at her, a question in his blue eyes.
'I understand, Professor,' Hermione said, her voice surprising her with its levelness. 'And I agree. The future is the only place I can hide.'
Dumbledore nodded sadly, reaching into his desk for something.
'I believe you are familiar with the use of one of these?'
The Time-Turner dangled from his hand. Hermione smiled, remembering her third year and the extra hours of work she had put in with that innocent- looking device.
'I believe I am, Professor.'
'Then take it, Hermione. Try ten years from now. It should be easy enough to reach. You don't have to leave immediately, but I will expect you gone by nightfall. You are no longer safe.'
Taking the delicate magical device, Hermione nodded, knowing the seriousness of her decision. Dumbledore came around the desk again, enveloping her in a hug.
'Take care, Hermione. You could be our last hope.'
Tearfully, Hermione hugged the old man back, releasing him in time to hear him mutter,
'And I dread to think what Minerva would do to me should anything happen to you.'
With a quiet laugh, she left the room, concealing the Time-Turner in her robes. She had understood the unspoken command to keep her mission a secret.
Sirius met her by the gargoyle, Snape sweeping past without a backward glance at her. For some reason that hurt Hermione, but she couldn't, for the life of her, work out why.
Walking through the hallways, back to her rooms, she was aware that Sirius was itching to know what had been said. He remained silent, however, choosing to let her decide when she would tell him. Hermione turned to him before she disappeared into her bedroom.
'Sirius, take care of yourself, okay?'
Confused, he readily agreed, unaware that this could be the last time he would ever see her. He was even more puzzled when she threw her arms about his neck, holding him close and making him promise not to get himself killed.
'Hermione, what's going on?'
She gave him a sad smile.
'I can't say. I'm sorry.'
He smiled back, dismissing her outburst as a touch of paranoia.
'Goodnight, Hermione.'
'Night.'
She shut the door, and gazed about the little room. Removing the Time- Turner from her robes, she examined it, slowly going over what it was she would have to do to reach the time Dumbledore had suggested. Taking a deep breath, she set the little device and turned it, feeling the room lurch around her.
Stale air constricted her throat, making her cough. Unable to breathe through the dust that suddenly coated everything around her, Hermione stumbled over to the window, fighting with the catch to allow some fresh air into the room. In desperation, she punched at the glass, hearing it shatter as she collapsed onto the floor, unconscious.
