Disclaimer: Harry Potter and company do not belong to me in any way shape or form.
Author's Notes: I know it's been like a year since I updated this story and for that, I apologize heartily. I was watching the first movie on ABC tonight and got inspired, so I called up the file on my laptop and finished this chapter. I hope it hasn't been so long that no one's interested anymore. Thanks for reading!!! Take care until next time...which with all the inspiration around the new movie, hopefully won't be another year!
Until Such A Time
by Kristen Elizabeth
Hermione dreamed of Harry sleeping. She saw him in the first bed they had shared, his hair bleeding ink onto the pure white pillow. There, she had been free to wrap herself around him in a way that hadn't been possible at Hogwarts, even in the most remote of corners. He hadn't wanted to take her like that. The Astronomy Tower or the prefects bathroom to which she had access, or even the Room of Requirement might have been good enough for any other hormone-driven couple, but Harry insisted on waiting until they could create the perfect moment. A Muggle inn, candles, rose petals...no one had ever gone to so much trouble for her.
He had caressed her with butterfly wings for fingers, barely grazing the surface of her skin as though it were far too delicate for his clumsy touch. And true, his hands had shaken slightly as he fumbled to take off his glasses. But there had been wonder in his green stare, absolute amazement that they were finally alone and able to love like this.
It hadn't been perfect, and yet, it had. She wouldn't find what Harry felt for awhile, through no fault of his own, but all the same it had been, in a word, magical. He had shown her with patience and whispered apologies, slow strokes and soft kisses that he loved her and it wasn't just their friend's expectations, or the passing lust of being seventeen that brought them together. When it was over and she was holding onto his sweat-kissed body waiting for him to catch his breath, she'd said it out loud for the first time, the words she had been holding in her heart for so long.
"I love you, Harry."
Hermione dreamed of Harry sleeping. And woke up alone.
Someone was pounding the front door of the cottage. She struggled to get off the couch, the huge mound of her stomach making it extremely difficult. She was wide awake now, jarred from her nap, but there were leftover tears on her cheeks.
Reaching the door a minute later, she grasped the heavy iron handle. "Harry?" she said, pulling it open.
"No, I'm sorry, Hermione." Remus Lupin stood on the stoop, looking far more haggard than what was usual for him. "It's only me."
Her shoulders slumped; she couldn't stop them. "Have you...have you heard...anything about..."
"I received an owl from the Ministry this morning," her former teacher replied. "I came straight away." He paused. "I take it there's been no word?"
Hermione shook her head, still unaware of her flowing tears. "It's...really wonderful to see you. Please...come in."
He closed the door behind them and watched Hermione waddle her way back to the couch on which she had apparently been napping in the middle of the day. "You look really..."
"Fat," she sighed, massaging her forehead.
"I was going to say 'well.' You hadn't even begun to show the last time I saw you." Lupin removed his cloak and folded it over his arm. "But Harry's letters have kept me up to date."
Hermione lowered herself back down onto the couch. "I've never seen him more excited about anything that didn't involve broomsticks and snitches." She touched her belly. "He's completely in love with this baby..." Her face twisted in pure agony. "And now...he might not even be here when she's born."
"He'll be here," Lupin said quickly. "Hermione, the Ministry's got absolutely everyone they can on this. There's not a rock in the whole of Britain that they'll leave unturned. You know that."
She covered her mouth with her hand for a moment. "Here's what I know. The facts. And you know me...I stick to the facts." After drawing in a shaky breath, she continued. "My husband's been missing for nearly a day now, having disappeared right in front of our best friend's eyes. He's never, ever, even in the worst of assignments, gone this long without contacting me. But so far, no one's heard a word from him. And now..." Hermione looked away. "That best friend of ours..." She stopped.
"What about Ron?"
"I've known him to be jealous. I've known him to be...block-headed and stubborn and even vengeful. But I have never known him to be deliberately cruel. I didn't even know he had it in him!" Hermione gave Lupin a quick recap of her earlier encounter with Ron and Serafina. "It froze my blood," she finished, her voice flat. "It was like all the worst parts of him just suddenly jumped to the surface. And in that moment, he couldn't give a damn about me or Harry or anything...except shagging his latest..." Hermione made herself stop again. "Well, you supply your own word there."
Lupin frowned. "Ron's acting strangely. Ron was the only witness to Harry's disappearance...."
"Are you hinting at...?" She shook her head. "No. That's impossible. Ron might slip into whiny jerk-mode every now and then, but he loves Harry like a brother. He couldn't ever hurt him. It's unthinkable." Hermione looked over at the older man and saw his arched eyebrow. "Stop it! Ron is a good man. His brain is just getting swamped with sex. He'll snap out of it and he'll feel massively guilty for everything he said."
"Look, Hermione." He knelt in front of her and reached for one pale hand. "I'm merely making the suggestion. Harry has stood up against Voldemort and won. He's done things wizards twice his age could never accomplish. What's the one thing that could catch him off guard and leave him vulnerable?" When she didn't reply, he answered his own question. "Betrayal, Hermione. Back-stabbing, dime-novel double-crossing from the one person he'd rather die than suspect. Think about it."
She studied him for a long minute, her brown eyes going back and forth between his. "Ron might have issues and complexes, but he's still one of the best friends I've ever had. He stood next to Harry on our wedding day; he'll be godfather to our child. I love him. Harry loves him. He loves us."
"You can't close yourself off to any possible explanations. Ron is a powerful wizard; if something had tried to take Harry, something that even he couldn't fight off, don't you think that their combined powers would have been enough to stave off the attack?"
Hermione shook her head, adamantly refusing to acknowledge any truth in his words. "You'll see. When Harry gets back...if Harry gets...back. Oh god..." She wrapped her arms around her unborn child. "He has to come back. He has to be safe. I don't...want to live my life without him."
Lupin hesitated before putting an awkward arm around her. "He's going to be fine. If he can't get out of whatever jam he's been put in by himself, we'll find him and bring him back to you." It sounded like he wanted to say more, but he just patted her back reassuringly.
She was too preoccupied to even notice. "He's been worried about you. Your letters come so sporadically."
"I've been abroad," he replied. "Southern France. There's...activity there that needed investigation."
"Activity?" Hermione straightened her back. "What does that mean?"
Lupin lowered his head. "Several villages in that part of France...they claim to have seen..."
"Seen what?"
"The Mark, Hermione. The thing of it is...it wasn't only wizards who claim to have seen it in the sky." He looked back at her. "Muggles made reports; that got the Ministry's attention. The usual stories about UFO's didn't work; we even gave them a few crop circles to keep the French authorities busy, but the Muggles I spoke to were very clear. They drew out the Mark on paper for me. Tell me...how could they have done that if they hadn't seen it?"
Scalding tears wet her eyes. "Of course he still has followers. That's the basis of Harry's job...finding them. Most of them fled to the continent. France seems as good a place as any for a Draco Malfoy or whomever to settle down. Any one of them could have..."
"A full Mark. It's not something they take lightly. It's a herald. Something is going to happen." He shook his shaggy head. "I just don't know what yet. All I know is...this is the worst time to lose our greatest trump card."
Fear crackled in Hermione's reply. "That can't be all Harry is to you and the Ministry," she snapped.
"Of course not. That came out wrong. What I meant was..."
But she was on a roll...and her hormones weren't helping. "From the time he was eleven years old, everyone's just sort of kicked back and expected the legendary boy to take care of whatever situation they created before he was even born! Well, now he needs your help. He doesn't need you to sit here accusing his best friend and...and..." Hermione's words tore off as pain stabbed her lower abdomen.
Lupin frowned. "Are you all right? Is something the matter with..."
"I'm fine." She sucked in a breath and blew it out slowly. "I didn't mean to get so worked up. I understand that you're doing your best. And that you only have Harry's best interest at heart."
"I have ever since he was born," the older man said softly. "Are you certain you're all right?"
"You're just going to have to trust me on this one. Unless you're an expert on what carrying around a seven pound baby is supposed to feel like."
He managed a smile. "Can't say that I have any idea."
Hermione nodded tightly. "I think I just need to lie down for awhile."
"I understand." Lupin stood up and watched her rearrange herself on the sofa. "If there's anything you need..."
"We have a telephone. Worst case scenario, Muggles can deliver babies just as well as medi-wizards can. Besides...there's absolutely no way this child is being born without Harry here." Her words were determined and spoken with forced joviality. "He got me into this...he's going to help get me out of it." Lupin continued to hesitate until she gave him a look. "Please...I need to know someone I trust is out there looking for him."
Lupin nodded. "Just rest, Hermione. Harry will be back soon."
She waited until she heard the front door shut before she released another, much deeper breath. "Baby..." she whispered to her stomach. "Not yet. Please."
Emma had once seen an old map of Hogsmeade in one of her mother's books, so when she Apparated into a hidden alleyway, she had a pretty good idea of where she was within the tiny village. She emerged into the mid-morning light, squinting slightly. When her eyes adjusted, she took her first good look at the place her mother had once described as the most hodgepodge little city in the world.
She found she had to agree with her mother's assessment. Hogsmeade was a shambly place, a bit dodgy, as Hagrid mostly likely would have said. But underneath the disrepair, she could tell that it had probably once been a very charming village, the kind of place where she could imagine her mother and her father...and certain other friends they had once had whom she didn't like to name...enjoying butterbeer together, swapping stories and laughing.
A man brushed her arm, charging past her as if she wasn't even there. He barreled across the cobblestone street and disappeared into a pub that bore the name, The Hog's Head. Emma sucked in and released a huge breath. She was secreted to the naked eye even here, so close to Hogwarts.
Speaking of Hogwarts, now that she was so close, she realized she really had no idea how to get to the castle. It wasn't as though there was a guidebook she could flip through, and even after a dozen reads of Hermione's favorite book, she wasn't entirely sure she'd even be able to see Hogwarts if she were standing in front of its port trellis.
Emma turned around in circles, searching for something, anything, until she spotted a group of kids who appeared to be only a year or two younger than she emerging from one shop. Dressed in matching robes, they were laughing as they examined the contents of their shopping bags, comparing purchases and making jokes. A lump rose up in her throat and refused to go down. She'd never had any friends. At least, none who were anywhere near her own age. None of the Order members had ever had children; Emma had always presumed that they had no desire to bring children into such a horrible world. She couldn't blame them. There had been occasions where she wished she hadn't been brought into it either.
But it meant that she'd never known what it was like to laugh with a friend or a group of friends like the kids in front of her did so freely and naturally.
Shaking her hair away from her face, Emma took a breath and jogged over to the group, following them as they started down the cobblestone street. Not one of them noticed her trailing behind...all the way across the rocky plains, around the lake and up to the castle gates.
"So," Emma whispered, staring up at the grand stone turrets. "This is Hogwarts." Kids streamed by her, completely unaware of her presence. "It's about time I got here."
With another great, calming breath, she walked forward, crossing the threshold into everything that she'd been denied for her whole life.
As Emma entered Hogwarts, her parents, along with the rag-tag group of crusaders, apparated onto the abandoned Quidditch pitch. The once immaculately trimmed green field was now overgrown with brown weeds and tall grasses; it looked nothing like the beloved place that had seen some of the happiest moments of his childhood.
"I see Voldemort holds no love of sport," Harry observed, dryly.
"There aren't enough children to make up proper teams, I'd presume." Lupin shielded his eyes from the midday sun. "Besides, even if he allows Houses other than Slytherin anymore, it's doubtful he'd let them win. What would be the point?"
Harry swallowed. "I don't know. I suppose I had hoped there would be something in this world that might have stayed the same." Hermione's hand slipped into his, squeezing gently. He squeezed back, reflexively. "Let's get started, shall we?"
His father's cloak covered them all, but they soon found it difficult to move in unison across the pitch. Someone he was fairly certain was George kept stepping on the heel of his shoe, although every time Harry turned around to tell him to be careful, George inevitably pointed to his brother. Somehow, they made it to the outskirts of the castle, though not without a few sore toes. He realized he was still holding Hermione's hand; both of their palms were damp with cold perspiration. He pulled away, wiping his hand on his pants leg.
Charlie was first to ask the question they were all thinking. "Can we go in there?"
"Doesn't matter if we can," Lupin told him.
"We're going to," Harry finished up. He took a step forward, propelling them all. "Leave your second thoughts here."
There weren't enough ugly words in the English language to describe the desecration that had been inflicted upon Hogwarts. The hallways that had seen them grow from children into adults were now shadowed with hate, corrupted by horror. Harry's blood ran cold in his veins, and his forehead throbbed. Voldemort. He was close, too close.
Hermione glanced at him. "You can feel him, can't you?"
"I feel him." Harry looked up through the translucent material of the cloak. "He's everywhere." His disembodied stare dropped back to meet Hermione's worried eyes. "He knows I'm here."
Her lip trembled. "You're still so connected to him."
"I always will be." He lowered his voice when he noticed Lupin trying not to listen. "I have to get away from you. He'll be coming for me...and I can't let him find you. Any of you."
"But Harry..."
His hand spanned the small of her back even as they kept walking. "I'll lead him away from you; I know you can find Molly. When you do, I want you to get out of here. Get back to Emma. Don't leave her alone."
"And what do you intend to do? Fight him again? Die again?!"
George and Fred exchanged looks. Lupin cleared his throat. Charlie watched with unashamed interest.
"Hermione, this is something I have to do. I didn't win in your past, and I might not be able to win in my future, but this has to be the present for now. And if I don't at least try to save you, then all of this was for nothing!" They all came to a halt in the middle of the empty hallway. "You're my wife. Emma is my daughter. I would die over and over to protect you both."
Tears flooded her eyes. "I don't want you to. I want you to..." She stopped short. "I'm sorry. I'm being selfish." She turned away. "Go. We'll find Molly."
Harry hesitated before lifting the side of the cloak closest to him. He turned back around and pulled Hermione into a deep kiss.
George snickered softly. "Now there's the Potters we remember."
Hermione's eyelids fluttered as he pulled away. Her heart couldn't take another one of his kisses; it was so very close to breaking. "Be careful," she implored him.
He nodded. And then, all too quickly, he was outside the secure invisibility of the cloak. She watched him disappear into the menacing shadows.
Lupin put his hand on her arm. "Come on. We haven't got much time, and there's a lot of corners to explore."
It was the hardest thing he'd ever done, leaving Hermione behind, but he comforted himself with the knowledge that it was entirely for her own good. He hadn't told her the whole truth. It wasn't just that he sensed Voldemort was aware of him. He could actually feel his cold eyes watching him. And as soon as he had realized Voldemort's power over his new domain, Harry had known that it was imperative that he break off immediately and go out on his own.
The castle was no longer a home for any wizard or witch who wished to learn. It was now a desolate place for the children of traitors. The offspring of the wicked. The ones who had seen the power of the Dark Lord, but rather than stand against him, had chosen to stand with him. As Harry moved through the castle, he couldn't help but remember better days. The memories piled up; every turn he took brought back a new one. That was the girls bathroom where he and Ron had saved Hermione from a troll...that was the corridor that led to Lupin's office while he was still teaching at the school...that was the corner where he and Hermione had shared their first innocent kiss.
Harry stopped in front of a battered portrait. The canvas had long since been torn to shreds, but he knew that gilded frame anywhere. It was the entrance into the first place he'd ever called home. The Gryffindor common room. Somehow, in the midst of his memories, his feet had led him to Gryffindor Tower.
There was no point in trying to figure out what had happened to the room's guardian; when the lady in the pink dress had fled...or been forced away, she'd left the door open just a bit. Harry had no problem slipping inside.
It was a disaster of epic proportions. The warm couches upon which he'd fallen asleep during many forced study sessions with Hermione had been broken, the fabric ripped, the stuffing spilling out. The fireplace that had warmed them through many winter nights was cold and apparently hadn't bit lit for many years. The once proud gold and garnet banners of the Gryffindor House that had watched over them all lay in tattered heaps on the floor. A thick layer of dust covered everything he'd loved so much.
He blinked back a sudden smattering of hot tears and steeled himself against the anger and sorrow that threatened to bubble over in his breast. Someone would pay for this. There would be justice.
On quiet feet, Harry started up the stairs to the boy's dormitory. He wasn't sure what he was doing; if Voldemort sent his minions out for him, he'd be back into a corner in the tower. But he had the sudden desire to see his old room. As quickly as he could, he ascended to the proper flight. This door was closed, but not locked. He opened it, wincing at the squeak of the rusty hinges.
But nothing prepared him for the shock of what lay inside.
She was tied up to a chair, blindfolded and gagged, but positioned close to the central furnace for warmth in the chilly stone room. The mixture of hatred and love told him that only one person had been responsible for placing Molly Weasley here. Her beloved youngest son.
"Molly." Harry moved to her without thinking and immediately lowered her blindfold. Ron's mother blinked at the sudden light. "Don't be startled. It's me...Harry Potter."
Once he'd removed the gag, Molly opened her eyes. "Harry?" Confusion and fear colored her face. "I don't...what are you..." He started working on her ropes. "You can't be here. You're dead!"
Harry freed her hands, frowning deeply at the bruises on her wrists. Ron's mother should have been sitting in front of a warm fire in the Burrow, surrounded by grandchildren as she knitted them all matching sweaters. Not here in this hell. "No time for explanations. We have to get you out of here before Ron..."
Her shoulders, heavy with age, shook at his name. "Ron...he's the one who...my little boy..." She was fighting with her tears, but losing to them. "Why?! Why did he do this?"
"I don't know, Molly." Harry draped her plump arm over his shoulders. "I wish I could understand. But right now, it's time to go. Charlie, Fred and George are here. We're going..."
"Nowhere."
Still supporting Molly, Harry turned to confront the voice. He didn't have to look to know who it was, though.
"Ron," he said, as calmly as possible.
"Harry." A twisted grin spread across his former best friend's freckled face. "I was hoping we'd bump into each other."
To Be Continued