Out of Time
By Rurouni Star
Firstly, an answer to a few questions: Hermione didn't recognize the symbol of the Dark Lord because she was currently in dreamy dreamy land. It was funnier that way. Or perhaps I mean more tragically comical. Whichever. Before anyone asks, Hermione has forgotten what she foretold, just like Trelawny. A few more important facts about it will be disclosed in the coming sequels, of course.
And the answer to your question about the girls' dorms is in the last chapter, which obviously has not been posted yet. You were supposed to wonder silently about it, darnit. Perhaps I've just put in too many secrets…
Secondly, someone asked about Viennese Waltz and what it looked like, so I put up a bit of information on my LJ for those that want to look. If you're reading this way into the future or are just too lazy to go looking, here it is.
w. livejournal. com/ users/ firegazer/ 17346 .html
Adding the first two 'w's back, of course.
Chapter 12 – In Confidence
"If you're not willing to take a risk for something you really care about, you might as well be dead."
-Diane Frolov and Andrew Schneider
Hermione rushed into the sanctuary behind the wall, gasping and clutching at her forehead, stumbling toward the couch, feeling as though something had torn through her head and left great gouges in it. She fell onto the couch with a strangled sound, burying her face in a pillow.
People were going to die. Harry was going to die. And countless others she knew, though their names had not yet come to her…
"It's not the future," she sobbed. "It's not, it's not-"
Hermione hated Divination. Couldn't abide it. Surely the magic wouldn't settle in the soul of someone who abhorred it so.
But what if? What if, what if, what if…
She wished Sirius were still there. She so desperately needed someone to talk to, someone she could trust with everything. If he'd just been there, she knew she would have told him anything, everything, even about the timeturner…
But he wasn't there.
So there was really only one other choice.
"Professor McGonnagal," Hermione whispered as she walked up to the teacher's desk, not bothering to hide the tear-streaks on her face, knowing somewhere within her that they would help get her what she needed. "May I – may I have the password to the Headmaster's office? It's somewhat urgent. For- for me, it is."
McGonnagal looked on the verge of asking her what on earth was the matter, but she seemed to realize that Hermione did not want to talk about it – at least to her.
"To the best of my knowledge, it is currently 'disappearing mint'," McGonnagal sighed. As Hermione turned to leave, the woman hesitated once before saying, "You look a bit stressed, Miss Granger. Perhaps you should consider taking a sick day."
Hermione paused, her hand on the door, shoulders slumped. "Do I really look so bad?" she asked. But it was so quiet that she imagined McGonnagal couldn't hear her.
She walked from the room quietly and soon found herself in front of the stone gargoyle Harry had so often described to her.
"Disappearing mint," she said hopefully, wiping at her face with her sleeve.
The statue shifted away to reveal a spiraling staircase, leading up, up, up into the darkness…
She followed it, her hand grazing the metal rail slightly, the gargoyle moving back to cover her entrance and leaving her in a cool, blissful black. A black where nothing could be seen, nothing could be understood, nothing could be ruminated over.
Her hand reached out, though, at the top of the staircase, and stopped at a wooden door. Hermione fumbled for a moment before finding the handle and opening it.
Dumbledore was waiting.
He was always waiting, somehow. She didn't want to know how he knew.
"Please, have a seat," he told her with a serene smile. "Lemon drop?"
Hermione swallowed and sat down heavily, scrubbing at her face, feeling suddenly self-conscious. "I- no thank you," she said lamely.
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "I often find that candy is good for what ails you. Do try one."
She thought about protesting again, but shrugged and took one, popping it into her mouth. The bittersweet taste spread over her tongue, and Hermione found he was right. It was somewhat comforting.
"Now then. You have something to talk to me about?"
She stared at him. "You've already heard, haven't you?" she asked in a quiet, desperate voice. "They're saying I saw something in Divination."
Dumbledore's smile stayed fixed, something to focus on, an unchanging point in her suddenly unstable world. "But there is more to this than just your mishap in Divination, I assume." At her uncomfortable look, he offered her another lemon drop, which she took. "Let me reassure you that anything you say here will be kept in the strictest of confidences. Should you be worried about magical seeing, this office is protected in the most secure way possible. I appreciate it when my pupils speak the truth, Miss Granger. Even if it is only a more complete truth and not the entire truth."
She swallowed. "Then- then I suppose I should say it. I don't remember anything in Divination except looking into the fog. But I do remember other- other things. Voices. Visions. I don't know what they are, exactly. But I remember them as though they're memories, when I'm quite certain I could never have lived through them." Just thinking of something, she added, "But I know it's me, because people have called me by name."
Dumbledore looked thoughtful. "There are many explanations for this. I presume your first fear was that you were going mad." He stated it, did not ask but said as though he were certain.
Hermione sighed. "I don't know what to think anymore. Some of the things seem true. I- I know that-" She dropped her voice, despite the fact that the room was supposedly absolutely secure. "I know that Professor Lupin is a werewolf. I know that Snape has something suspicious on his left arm, and I know that he's an Occlumens."
Dumbledore didn't show any alarm at this information, but something in his eyes did change. "You have, of course, kept this information to yourself," he said quietly. "Entirely to yourself, I mean, Miss Granger."
He's asking if I've told Ron or Harry, she thought faintly.
"Yes," she whispered. "Entirely."
Dumbledore's smile was cheerful again. "No harm done, then. Do try not to tell anyone in the future as well. Some of that information is highly sensitive."
Hermione bit her lip. "It's true then?" she asked. "All of it?"
The Headmaster nodded. "Yes, all of it. But that does narrow it down quite a bit. You already have your suspicions, though, don't you? Perhaps you should enlighten me as to your own thoughts on this matter. We often know the answers ourselves, in some form or another."
She thought hard about how she was going to phrase this. "Well… Headmaster… if I have any kind of…" her lip curled unconsciously, "talent, in Divination. Wouldn't it make it possible that what I'm seeing is the future?"
"I think you're on the right track," Dumbledore said, the thoughtful look back on his face. "But there is something important missing from that particular puzzle. True Seers cannot remember any of their visions or predictions – furthermore, they do not have visions with the frequency that you say you have. A true prediction also takes quite a bit out of the seer… and I hardly think you would have that kind of energy, especially with your little golden gift from McGonnagal."
Something in Hermione's mind snapped into place then. The timeturner. Of course.
"That's it!" she said suddenly. "That's it! I- the timeturner- I received a message from myself earlier this year, saying I'd understand because of what McGonnagal gave me. And it was right after that I started seeing things- memories, even though they can't have happened yet!" She stopped, waiting for him to confirm or deny her idea, but Dumbledore clearly expected her to finish first. "I- what if I'm sort of remembering in reverse? I don't know how I would acquire memories from a me that hasn't come to be yet, but what if it were possible somehow?"
Dumbledore did nod, now. "That would make sense, would it not, Miss Granger?"
Her face went white, though. "But Harry-" she whimpered. "Oh- oh, Harry- he's dead- he will be, I mean-"
At this, the smile faded from Dumbledore's face for the first time since she'd been in there. "What can you remember about this?" he asked quietly.
Hermione's lip trembled. "I was trying to get to him- Professor Lupin held me back, he said he was already dead- and there was this man with red eyes standing over him…"
Dumbledore took off his glasses at this point and looked down on the pretense of wiping them on his robes. Hermione looked at him sharply. "You know something about this?" she asked desperately. "Some way to stop it from happening?"
The Headmaster sighed. "Changing time is a very unsteady business. You should know this from the warnings Professor McGonnagal has given you. The fact that you have this memory at all is not promising, as it tends to make me believe the future will happen, or has already happened, as it may be."
Tears pressed against her eyelids, hot and unhappy. Harry was going to die. And she knew about it, and she couldn't do a thing.
I did it for nothing, some foreign part of her was whispering despairingly. If this is so, all hope is gone.
But-
"You said it's an unsteady business," Hermione said slowly. "But… does that mean it's possible?"
Dumbledore looked up and put back on his glasses, regarding her seriously. "Yes, it can be done. Usually, though, it does not go well. Wizards kill themselves, important sacrifices are sometimes rendered impotent, and in one particularly bad instance, a whole nation was destroyed."
Hermione swallowed. "I think- I think I knew that, though. When I sent back the message, that is." And then, she remembered Dumbledore's voice in her ear…
"It's a good thing you don't follow rules well, isn't it, Miss Granger?"
Enlightenment hit her.
"You sent me," she said, amazed.
At this particular point, Dumbledore straightened.
"I do hope not," he said softly, watching her through his half-moon glasses. "Because that means there are very bad times ahead. For I would not do any such thing unless I had run out of options."
She felt her stomach sink horribly, but at least she knew- she knew it could be changed, she knew it was important, she knew she wasn't going mad-
"Have hope, Miss Granger," he said quietly. "If anyone can fix it this time around, it will be you."
Hermione was keenly reminded of Professor McGonnagal's proud face as she offered to mentor her in becoming an Animagus.
"I will try, Headmaster," she whispered. "I'll try my best."
He smiled and patted her hand. "I'm certain you shall." Dumbledore eyed her interestedly. "Was there anything else you wanted me to know? Some information that I must have in order to help you? You may trust me with anything, Miss Granger, anything at all."
At first, she wanted to say nothing. She wanted to retreat to her dormitory and sit on her bed with the curtain closed, and try to reclaim her mind from the whispers and the sinking despair. But then, it occurred to her-
"Sirius Black is innocent," she said firmly.
Hermione sat on her bed, just as she'd envisioned, curtains closed around her, hands clasped shakingly in her lap. She'd betrayed him, told everything about poor Sirius, hoping to god that when Dumbledore said 'anything' he meant it.
I believe you.
The three golden words. A lot of silly people thought they were something else, but she knew better now. There was a rush of giddiness, a deep-seated hope that had grown in her since Dumbledore had said that. Time could be changed. The future could be rewritten. And Sirius Black could eventually get his pardon, and be free to walk the streets again, because Albus Dumbledore believed him.
She didn't know why Sirius' innocence was so important to her. Not just a distant wish, or a sympathetic understanding, but a driving priority. He had to be pardoned. He had to. Otherwise, he could die, or he could lose his soul, and she wasn't sure what she would do if either happened.
So really, she was – what? Done for the day? Not remotely. There was still the matter of confronting Harry and Ron after her strange visions. Because apparently, she really had Seen – at this Hermione would normally have snorted, but times were, unfortunately, changing – and she had a feeling that whatever she'd discovered in that crystal ball would be important later.
Wishing she could put this off, but not daring to, Hermione swung her legs over the edge of the bed, pushing the curtain aside with her hand and walking down to dinner.
The Great Hall didn't turn to look in her direction unanimously, but Hermione had the very disquieting feeling of being watched out of the corner of many eyes. She walked uneasily to the Gryffindor table, pretending not to notice. She could not, however, ignore the very blatantly curious looks that Harry and Ron were giving her as they gestured to an empty seat between them.
Wonderful, Hermione thought desperately. They're going to bombard me from both sides. I bet they have it all planned out, too-
"So," Harry said cautiously as Hermione sat down, immediately going for the chicken. "You've quit Divination for good, then?"
Hermione swallowed.
"I- I don't know," she admitted. "I think so."
Ron took up immediately on this point. "But would you really – I mean, when you obviously saw something- you know that's loads farther than Harry or me ever got."
Hermione snorted. "It would be sort of hard to see anything on the back of your eyelids, wouldn't it?" she said, taking a spoonful of potatoes. She decided to conveniently ignore the fact that she had, in a way, been doing that herself.
"So – um," Harry interjected intelligently. "You- you really don't remember – anything?"
Hermione paused.
"No," she said shortly, lunging for a roll as the basket passed her.
She knew Harry and Ron were exchanging heavy looks behind her. Hermione sighed and tucked a curl irritably behind one ear. "Oh come on," she said testily. "It's not like I even saw something important – probably Neville dropping another teacup or something. That's hardly a pressing need to stay in Divination."
A feeling of dread settled over her stomach as Harry and Ron continued to look at her. They were now wearing a furtive expression, the kind worn by someone who doesn't want to tell an awful secret that will just get told anyway.
Harry cleared his throat first – he had always been the braver and (if she admitted it) more tactful of the crew. "Well, actually… you sort of…"
The people around them had grown suspiciously quiet. She suspected they were trying to listen in.
"How about after dinner?" she suggested pointedly, shooting a cool expression toward the others, who immediately busied themselves with their food again.
Harry nodded while Ron looked slightly perplexed but also agreed after a moment.
Hermione left dinner early, after having a slightly strained, overly normal conversation with Harry and Ron, ranging from subjects such as Buckbeak's appeal (still not going well) to how the steak seemed slightly overcooked today. She walked from the hall, forcing herself to be calm, and wondered to herself just how quickly she might be able to get to her commonroom. Possibly fast enough to stay out of range of any nosy people trying to corner her for an explanation she didn't have. Then again, she might have to use her timeturner just once… never a good option.
She was pondering this still when someone grabbed her from behind, throwing a hand over her mouth and drawing her, surprised, into another room. Hermione seemed to recall this happening before – but the hand did not belong to Sirius Black. It was smaller, that of someone her age, and she could feel silk robes behind her. A smell of sharply-pressed clothing and categorically expensive cologne confirmed her unhappy suspicion, and she lashed out, catching her captor in the face and making him curse softly.
Hermione found herself thrown against a wall, arms held at the wrists to keep her from doing any more damage.
"Granger," Malfoy spat, looking angry and off-balance and possibly slightly… afraid?
"Malfoy," she said back, as coolly as she could manage while being manhandled by someone that would just as soon torture her as insult her.
His teeth were gritted, whether from simply touching someone of her impure blood or from something entirely different, she didn't know. He stared at her with cold silver eyes, trying to find something, desperate to find it.
"What did it mean?" he asked in a hiss.
She felt her brow knit in confusion. "What did what mean?" she asked. "The part where I slapped you? I can tell you that easy enough, you arrogant git-"
"What did the dark mark mean!" he said viciously. "The snake and the skull, you stupid girl! What did it mean?"
Hermione stared at him. "Look, I really don't know what you mean. Truthfully, and I really shouldn't tell anything of the truth to someone like you, I don't know what a dark mark is. So if you'd kindly let me go before I scream rapist…"
And, surprisingly – Malfoy's grip on her slackened, and he let go of her wrists.
"You don't remember," he said, looking at once both horrified and lost, as though the idea hadn't occurred to him. Malfoy ran a furious hand through his hair, messing up its usually impeccable arrangement.
"This is worse than I thought," he muttered to himself, and she found herself too horridly fascinated for the moment to make any attempt to escape. "He'll kill you – no, he'll kill me first, for telling-"
"What on earth are you talking about?" Hermione demanded. "Who's going to be killing me? I'd sort of like to know about something like that!"
Malfoy broke from his mad pacing just long enough to sneer at her. "I don't need to explain anything to a dirty little mudblood like you-"
"You will if you don't want me to tell anyone about this," she hissed at him. "And I see no reason not to so far, because I'm going to have bruises on my wrists."
He paused, his face carefully blank as his mind worked furiously. No doubt he was thinking of how to shut her up – it would never occur to him to actually just tell her the truth. Hermione felt her expression sour as she pulled her wand and pointed it at him.
"Answers," she said quietly. "And don't think you can pull anything on me now. I know how to defend myself perfectly well, and you're without your goons."
Malfoy stared at her as though seeing her for the first time. Not in a good way, either.
"What happened to your booky little miss goody goody routine?" he asked with a twitch of his mouth threatening to turn it into an even deeper frown.
"Lost it with the pressure," Hermione responded automatically. "It's called twelve classes – you know, grades, the thing your father pays for on your behalf." She gestured with her wand. "If you don't want me to experiment with the body twisting hex on you, you're going to tell me something. And believe me, that one can go very, very-"
"-wrong," he finished, still looking at her in displeasure. "How in hell did someone like you get to learn that? That's a sixth year specialty dueling charm."
Hermione inwardly smiled at the fact that he didn't suspect her of bluffing. Well, he did have her pegged, anyway. She did know it, because she'd looked up dueling charms after Sirius had left. In theory, she knew it, just like anyone who had looked up the gesture and the words. Just hadn't used it on a human yet. And hopefully, never would.
Malfoy shook his head, running his hands through it frustratedly again. "Fine. Fine. But what I'm about to tell you never leaves this room. I want a confidentiality charm on that. And you can't go telling the wonder twins about your… detainment." He eyed her cautiously. "Do we have a deal, Granger?"
She licked her lips, trying to ascertain his truthfulness. Oh, what she wouldn't do for some illegal Veritaserum right now – and really, that was an extreme thought for her, because it carried a year's sentence in Azkaban just for possession.
"Fine," she ground out, putting out her hand reluctantly and swiping her wand across it, leaving a glowing line of blood.
Malfoy whipped out his own wand then, and she watched him carefully for any signs of a quicker fix (disarming charm would be a better definition). When he simply slit a wound into his palm with a grimace, she took his hand quickly and shook it, face twisting in distaste as his cold hand gripped hers.
Both drew back quickly, as though burned. Not a scar remained from the confidentiality charm.
"Explain," she said immediately, her wand still trained on him. Malfoy's lips twitched once before he put his own wand on a desk beside him, apparently unconcerned by the thought that she might hit him with a spell just for dislike.
"You're a Seer, Granger," he said acidly. "Never would have thought it, from you, of all people, but maybe your 'inner eye' got some sort of stimulation." He snorted at this, and she couldn't help but roll her eyes along with him. If there was one thing the houses all agreed on, it was that Trelawny was a phony twit. "They say you saw the dark mark today, trying to get out and bite you. Well let me tell you, it's a self-fulfilling prophecy. If the Dark Lord really is coming back anytime soon, he's going to want you for that. True Seers are very hard to come by."
Hermione tried not to look too distressed by this sudden revelation, thinking that he could be lying, he could be setting up a trap-
But.
"The Dark Lord," she whispered, eyes wide. "You don't mean- V-Voldemort." She was proud of being able to say his name with only a little difficulty. It was worth it to see him wince openly, but Malfoy said nothing about her choice of title.
"Yes," he gritted out. "There's only one real Dark Lord left, isn't there, mudblood?"
Her hand convulsed with the urge to smack him, but she knew she would never get anything else out of him that way.
"You just foretold the Dark Lord's rebirth," Malfoy told her with glittering eyes, though he seemed decidedly put out by this news, in some ways. "And he'll want you, mark my words. He tried for a Seer even before he fell the first time. You're doubly at risk because of Potter, and triply because you're a mudblood. You'll be dead within the year, after he gets his use out of you. Possibly worse."
Hermione narrowed her eyes as she listened. Something about this was off…
"Why would you tell me any of this, even under threat of violence?" she asked bitingly. "You've got no reason to care if I live or die, you've made that plain many times."
Malfoy's expression turned distinctly distasteful. "I don't care if you live or die. I care if the Dark Lord returns. I care if I have to go and fight the good fight, possibly lose any chance I might've had at a future, just for the bloody Malfoy pride! I care if that fight draws out, possibly finishes with me having to make some sacrifice for the good of the 'master', just because you didn't have the ruddy sense to go and kill yourself before you got captured." At her distressed look, he rolled his eyes. "See, I knew you wouldn't. Anyway, I don't think I would either, so you needn't worry about your position in my eyes."
Hermione colored, her fingers tightening on her wand. "Firstly," she told him coldly, "I don't care what position I hold in your eyes, and you know it. Secondly, if you were me, I would kill myself in disgust. And thirdly, if it got that bad…" She took a deep breath. "If it got that bad, I think I might."
And then, despite what he had said before, she thought she might have seen a spark of quick – what? respect? – in his eyes. No, not respect, maybe surprise.
Malfoy's lips curled into a sneer then. "Good for you, Granger. It'll rid the world of you, anyway, and I won't even have to lend a hand and go to Azkaban. At least I've accomplished something by giving you my time tonight."
It took more strength of will than Hermione had ever conjured before not to simply blow him off his feet right then and there. But she'd promised, and she was better than him in that she kept her word.
"Do you think you could possibly lay off the insults just for one night?" she said, rolling her eyes in a forced way. "They really do detract from the silence. Anyway, I-" Hermione frowned suddenly.
"Did I say anything else?" she asked, brow knit in confusion.
Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "You described the dark mark, the snake trying to get at you- no, I don't think there was anything else, that was probably the most important part. You know, where the Dark Lord gets reborn and all."
"I know that," she snapped. "You know, you're a lot of help. I probably could've gotten most of that from Harry and Ron, who were there, by the way, and I would've gotten the added bonus of getting to actually hit you with something. Honestly, I don't know how people resist from hexing you just entering the room!"
His smirk was getting unbearable, and doubly so as he stood up, throwing his arms wide in a gesture of submission.
"You've got me, Granger, I'm really an awful, incurably evil bastard, just waiting to kill you once I get the chance. It'd be better if you just hit me with your best and got it over with, now wouldn't it?"
She faltered, her wand wavering for a moment. He didn't move.
It was… tempting. Very much so. And like he'd said before, he would take a chance like this in a heartbeat, so why should she hesitate-
No. He wanted her to descend to his level. She'd made a promise and she was keeping it, damnit, even if it killed her!
Hermione tucked her wand back into her robes neatly and passed by him easily. "Sorry," she told him. "I've got better things to do, I'm afraid."
His expression was unreadable, but Hermione could hear a voice (the normal kind) inside her head rejoicing, saying, A hit, a hit, a palpable hit!
She was halfway out the door when he spoke again, having not moved from his slightly humbling position.
"Wait."
Hermione stopped with a shrug, expecting some kind of snarky insult before she left.
"You… you did say something. I'd almost forgotten, it seemed too strange…"
A feeling of dread swept through her. She'd known, somehow, that there was more, and that it wasn't good…
Malfoy turned around to look at her piercingly. "You said something like… 'it's stuck, it's trying to get out, it's waiting for the rat…'"
Hermione turned sheet white.
"Wh-what?" she whispered, knowing even as she did that she was giving away too much, but that she had to know, needed to know if she'd heard right.
"It's stuck, it's trying to get out, it's waiting for the rat," he repeated, watching her face and seeming to find something interesting as she blanched again. "Not the exact words, probably – I've gotten it from the grapevine, it's never completely accurate. But the rat… now that, I'm sure of."
Hermione swallowed and shook her head quickly. "Look, I- I don't know what that means." A lie. She was awful at lying, he probably saw right through her. "I know we could probably talk about this to each other if we wanted, but I'd suggest we just don't. I won't tell Harry and Ron. Or any of the teachers," she added, keeping true to the spirit of her word but inwardly smirking as Malfoy seemed to realize she'd had the perfect opening to pull a Slytherin-type loophole. "But in return, I don't want you telling anyone you've told me… well, I guess that's sort of superfluous, considering they might kill you for it, isn't it?"
His scowl told her she'd hit the mark.
Then, with a careful expression, concealing the sudden spurt of inspiration she'd just had, Hermione said – "If you find out anything else, I hope you'll tell me. It might… make things easier."
Malfoy looked struck. "You're networking, Granger," he said in amazement. "I never would have thought it of you, trying to get a little spy-"
Hermione threw her hands up in the air. "I just want to know if someone thinks my head would look good on a trophy wall, all right?" she told him angrily. "No one wants to go to their death obliviously! Not even mudbloods!"
He smirked at her. "I don't think you need to worry about your head going on any trophy walls. Your hair's atrocious… though your teeth might look like antlers, from far enough back…"
Hermione decided to leave at that point. If he went any further, she'd have to give up her superior resolution not to twist him into a human pretzel.