AN - Prepare yourself for a big surprise in this chapter! Maybe even more than one! ;-) Oh, and I have over 100 reviews for this fic now? Wahoo! Thanks so so much, gals! ;-)

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A Draught in Time:

Chapter 8

-dutchtulips-

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After Ron had left, Harry had gone back upstairs, finally feeling tired enough to go to sleep. When he and Ginny had returned home from the Three Broomsticks earlier that night, his head was still buzzing; he still felt too awake to sleep. Now, though, he'd returned to bed, tired now after his talk with Ron.

Ginny moved next to him, lying on her side, with one hand draped over her stomach. Harry smiled serenely and reached over and touched her arm, the feel of her gentle breathing seeming to lull him into slumber. Before he knew it, his eyelids had fallen closed, and sleep's whirlpool was taking him away...

Harry heard the thundering on the stairs and looked up from talking to Ginny to see that Ron was rushing down the boys' staircase so quickly that Harry was afraid he'd trip and fall on his face. But he didn't; he actually jumped down the last few steps, and stopped to look around the common room. There was a faraway look in his eyes for a moment, something that Harry couldn't identify.

Hermione, who had been sitting in her usual chair, her huge Arithmancy book spread out on her lap, also looked up, quite surprised by the racket Ron had made coming downstairs. But before she could start in on her usual scolding, Ron marched right up to her.

"Hermione - you're there, you're you, you're sitting there!" He yammered.

She closed her book and got out of her chair, staring at him. "Yes, Ron," she replied confusedly. "It's me, here in the common room... Are you feeling all right?"

"You're in the common room!" Ron exclaimed, swinging his arms around her and hugging her. "And I'm in the common room! And so's Harry, and Ginny, and --"

"Ron, please calm down. You're babbling! Now tell me what's going on."

He didn't reply, not right away, as he paused to catch his breath. "You really want to know?"

She nodded. "Of course! You're acting so strangely!"

"I am, aren't I?" Ron smiled. "And you want to know why, don't you..." He paused, as if suddenly remembering something, and grinned wider. Reaching into the pocket of his robes, he pulled out a small, thick book. "Here..." He said softly, holding it out to Hermione.

She stared at it for a moment, and her eyes seemed to glisten as she did so, looking astounded. "Eight, nine years it's been... how did you... how did you know..."

Hermione at last tore her eyes away from the book to look at Ron. She seemed to be on the verge of tears, her eyes filled with bemusement.

But Ron only shrugged, smiling at her unspoken question. "I just... I love you, Hermione. I really, really... love you..."

Harry's eyes snapped open, and it took him a moment to realize where he was. Sunlight broke into the room quite suddenly, as the bedroom curtains were opened. "Morning already?" He said, sitting up in wonder. The dream was still so fresh in his mind, it felt as if it had actually happened, as if he'd really lived it.

"I know, comes fast, doesn't it?"

Harry looked up, and saw his wife standing at the bedroom windows, pulling back the curtains. He blinked his eyes, attempting to adjust them to the light. "Gin, you wouldn't believe this dream I had."

Ginny walked over to the bed, wrapping her dressing gown a little closer around her body. "Oh? What about?"

"I'm not sure," he said. "I mean, I know, but it was weird. Like déjà vu."

She picked up Harry's glasses off the nightstand and handed them to him. He took them from her and put them on. "It wasn't a nightmare, was it? Like those ones you... used to have?"

Realizing what she was talking about, he shook his head vehemently. "No, no, Gin. Nothing like that. You don't have to worry." He gave her a smile and took her hand. "It was... happy. Ron and Hermione were there. We were all back at Hogwarts."

"Quaint." Ginny smiled back, watching as her husband climbed out of bed.

"Are you going into the bookshop today?" He asked, putting his arms around her.

"Yes, but Hermione's going to be there, so don't worry."

"I'll probably worry anyway. You're due next week and I've got one of my feelings," Harry replied, placing his hand on Ginny's pregnant stomach.

"You know it's usually women who get those," she told him, smirking, putting her hand on his. "I'll be fine, love. We're not going in until around noon. You and Ron are dropping in at Fred and George's store today, so we'll be right across the street from each other. There's no need to be afraid, because you'll be right there."

"Well, I don't know, I might not be there right away, I've got some errands to run," he said. "Ron asked me to pick up something for him... on the way."

Ginny shook her head, almost in a rueful way. "Harry, I will be perfectly fine. Even if something does happen, Hermione will be there. And Fred and George will be just across the road, and Ron will probably be there, too. So really you have nothing to get anxious about, because it's not as if I'll be alone."

"True, but you can't blame me, after what we've already been through."

Ginny just chuckled. "I suppose I'd expect nothing less from the Boy Who Lived Again."

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Mid-afternoon. It would be dusk in several hours, and the shopping crowds were already starting to swell on High Street. Sitting in Fred and George's shop, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, Ron glanced at the window across the way, into Hermione's bookstore. Even from the distance, he could still see into the shop, the throngs of people in the aisles. Another busy evening, it looked.

Ron turned to look around his brothers' store. It was amazing, and yet oddly whimsical, what they'd done with it. There were tables, aisles, shelves, and racks of trinkets and novelties, some of which he had a hard time figuring out what they were. Bags of tricks and pranks lined the walls and hung haphazardly in the display window. Everything in the store - from the paint job, to the carpet, to the products - was coated in bright, lurid colors.

"Harry still not here yet, mate?" George asked, walking in from the back room of the shop.

"Well, I asked him to get something for me, so he's probably just running late," Ron replied, sliding off the stool and getting to his feet. "He might've decided to Floo, I can go check down at the Three Broomsticks..."

"Or he just Apparated, like he always does."

Ron blinked and looked up, seeing Harry standing just inside the store entrance. "I've been busy with some errands, Apparating from place to place all day, so I figured to Floo would just take longer," he said, looking cheerful. "Hey, George. Fred in the back?"

"Thought you'd never get here!" George said brightly. "Yeah, he's going through the stuff we brought back from Canada. Wanna come on back, you two?"

"Sure!" Harry replied, falling into step beside Ron as they followed George towards the shop's storage room. Quietly to the redhead, "I found it."

"You did?" Ron exclaimed. "How?"

The jet-haired man withdrew the book from his pocket and passed it over to Ron, who took it quickly. "It wasn't easy," he replied. "I had to Apparate all the way to Maine just to find a copy, but I did it."

"Maine?" Ron said, looking surprised. "You mean, all the way over in America? Oh, you didn't have to do that."

"I wanted to, though," Harry said. "And I have an Auror pal there who gave me a hand, too." Pause. "It's the least I could do, mate."

"Thanks, Harry. This really means a lot." Ron grinned.

He stashed the book in the pocket of his cloak, just as George led them into the large back room area, which was just as brightly colored as the front of the store, though slightly more cluttered. Vials of liquid, brass scales, cauldrons, and other assorted equipment lay spread across several tables.

The three of them walked over to where Fred was sitting, over one of the tables, and sifting through several containers of potion ingredients. He looked up and grinned as they approached. "Powdered unicorn horn," he said, holding up a bottle and giving it a wave from emphasis. "I have to hand it to the Canadian lads, they do know their stuff. You won't believe what these tiny glittery specks are going to do for our fake wands. And the lacewings, for our magically appearing vomit!" He shuffled through the containers again, as Ron and Harry exchanged amused looks - "These are going to be fantastic. Twice as much vomit!"

"Quick question, though," Ron cut in, smirking, "Is that a good thing?"

"You can never go wrong with vomit!" Fred replied happily. "But wait - that's not even the best news!" He jumped up and started across the other side of the room, his brothers and Harry following. Fred lead them over to a sturdy old bookcase, which was unusually devoid of books. Instead it was filled with jars and vials of various magical herbs and other things. Some of them looked as if they had been sitting there for quite a while.

"Fred and I have a complete one-up on everyone else," George explained. "Time has allowed us to make a really wicked discovery. Some ingredients - not all - have really interesting effects in our experiments after they've aged!"

Ron blinked. "Aged?"

"Indeed!" Fred replied. "At least, in the invention in some of our pranks. We're not sure about anything else. At first we just thought it was the norm, you know, because we mix such crazy stuff together? But we mentioned it to our mates in Canada and they've been trying it out as well, and it really works!" He paused to catch his breath, then forged on ahead. "You see, awhile ago me and George were going through some old supplies, because we're so disorganized, and we found some old containers of potions ingredients we completely forgot we had! They must've been years old -"

"Wait, Fred, George..." Harry interrupted, an intense look on his face. "You've been collecting old herbs and things - aging them?"

"Yeah!" George exclaimed, but then his face fell slightly. "Oh, no, if we broke another one of those Ministry guidelines, don't rag us about it. We weren't even sure that that was the cause for all the wonky goings-on with our inventions until we checked with the Toronto blokes -"

"No, that's not it!" Harry replied, shooting a poignant glance at Ron - who was now beginning to understand what all this talk was leading up to. "Just... how old are some of the ingredients you have?"

The twins seemed to pep up again at Harry's curiosity. "Well, after we swapped with the Canadian jokesters, we got some ingredients that are up to ten, twelve years old! Really potent stuff!"

"You bet it is!" Ron blurted, feeling the nerves welling up inside of him. He glanced anxiously at Harry; there was only one question left to ask...

The twins looked pleased. "Why? Either of you interested?" George asked.

"Yeah, as a matter of fact," Harry said, his eyes bright. "While you were over there, you didn't happen to exchange for any fluxweed, did you? Maybe around, say, ten years old?"

Fred's eyebrows went up, and he stepped closer to the bookcase, quickly shuffling through the newest bunch of jars on the shelf. It seemed to take him forever to go through them all, but when Fred stepped back again, he had something in his hands...

"You're in luck!" He exclaimed, holding a blue canister out to Harry. "Ten-year-old fluxweed right there! The Toronto blokes really love the stuff, they said we should have a go at it in our products." Fred suddenly looked confused. "I didn't know you were in the market for something so specific, though. I mean, a few weeks ago George and I didn't even know about it."

Harry took the jar. "Oh, well, it's something my... my Auror chieftain has been after for awhile. It's something for our new assignments next week." He gave a short laugh, and pocketed the fluxweed. "Er, you two? Sorry that we have to shove off so soon, but... Ron and I have something we need to take care of..."

The twins looked up. "That's no problem, actually," George said. "All this talk about the new stuff has got Fred and I really corking to experiment with it, and with reopening the shop on Monday, we really need to get busy!"

"Okay, well, best have at it!" Harry said hastily, grabbing Ron's arm as they edged towards the door. "We'll see you later!"

The two of them hurriedly ambled out of the shop, and it wasn't until they were outside that Ron spoke. "All this time, the answer was with Fred and George! Those crazy blokes, they actually came in handy."

"You know what this means, of course," Harry replied. "You'll be able to get back to your time. All we have to do is brew the potion, and..."

"Everything will be fine." Ron's breath went out with a swoosh, as the realization hit him for the first time.

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A mere half-an-hour later, Harry and Ron were busy at work in the kitchen of Ron and Hermione's house, a cauldron sitting in the basin with a blueball flame wafting beneath it. A battered copy of the book Common Remedies and Antidotes Through Potion-Making was laying on the counter beside the cauldron, open to the page that listed the ingredients for the belladonna antidote.

"Will we have enough time to finish this before Hermione gets home?" Harry inquired. "If she comes home while we're still messing about the kitchen, she's going to wonder what we're doing."

"I'm not sure," Ron replied, giving the cauldron's contents a quick stir. "She told me she'd be home around seven. When we left Fred and George's shop, it was still fairly busy over at the bookstore. Hopefully we'll have time. And if not, we can move it to the guest bathroom upstairs."

"I don't think we'll have any problems, then." Harry picked up a jar and emptied a portion of its contents into a measuring cup. "I'm putting in the asphodel now, give it another stir once I do."

Ron picked up his wand as Harry poured the asphodel into the potion, sticking it into the cauldron and stirring it swiftly. After that, the two stood back.

"It has to simmer for two hours now, according to the book," Harry said. "There's nothing left to do until then, except add the fluxweed, of course." He looked at his friend. "How are you feeling? I mean, are you doing OK? Because this all happening so quickly."

Ron merely shrugged. "The quicker the better, I suppose."

Harry leaned against the counter, his head tilted in thought. "You don't seem... very relieved about finally being able to get back."

The redhead shrugged again, crossing the room and sitting down at the kitchen table. "Well, I'm glad I'll be able to go back where I should be, but..."

"What?"

"I'm going to miss this. I really am." Ron plunked his elbow on the tabletop, gathering his chin in his hand. "I mean, just hours ago I was convinced I'd be stuck here forever. I guess... I guess I was actually warming up to the idea. Staying here didn't feel like such a bad idea. I mean, I'm married... to the only woman I've ever seriously cared about, ever truly loved. And my best friend, he's my sister's husband... the very bloke I would've picked out for her, and probably did."

Harry smiled.

"It's just... I have a really nice life here," Ron went on. "It's going to be hard going back to sixteen... where the future's still a scary thing. Where Hermione doesn't even know that I..."

Harry stepped over to the kitchen table, laying a friendly hand on the redhead's shoulder. "That's why you've got to tell her," he said. "I'd hate for you to miss out on the beginning, those first few years when you and Hermione were first courting. It's a special time in every relationship." Pause. "As soon as you get back, you should let her know. It was just like in my..."

But he didn't finish. Harry's voice drifted off, and he stood back for a moment, staring out into space. A perplexed look creased his face, but it soon gave way to something else as a comprehension seemed to dawn on him.

"What? What is it?" Ron asked, confused. "Is something wrong?"

The jet-haired man gave a small nod. "No, on the contrary..."

Ron, still addled, opened his mouth to ask him what he meant, but before he could, a sharp, tapping noise filled the room, shattering both of their thoughts.

"What is that?" Harry inquired, glancing around.

But a movement at the kitchen window caught Ron's eye, and, silently he got out of his chair and walked over to open it. Perched on the windowsill was a tawny owl, holding out his leg to which a scroll of parchment was attached. Ron carefully removed it.

"A letter?" Harry walked over to his friend's side, to see what was in the note.

The handwriting was hasty and quick, and slightly blotted in some places, but Ron was still able to make out the words.

Ron -

Ginny's water broke as we were closing up the store; we just arrived at the hospital with Fred and George. Please get here as soon as you can. I assume Harry's with you so for Merlin's sake tell him what's happened. Ginny's been asking for him.

Hermione xx

Harry, who had been standing next to Ron reading the letter, suddenly snapped alert. "I knew it! I told Ginny I had a feeling today could be it, and... and... we really need to get to the hospital. Now!"

"Of course," Ron agreed, rushing over the fireplace to conjure a fire. "We can wait to finish the potion later."

Harry poked his hand into the vase of Floo powder and threw a pinch into the flames the moment after the redhead had lit them. "Sorry about this, mate."

"What're you apologizing for?" The redhead replied, suddenly grinning. "You and Ginny are about to have a baby, for heaven's sake!"

Harry beamed back and stepped quickly into the fire, shouted out his destination, and with a flurry, he was gone. Ron then took some powder for himself and tossed it in, and, with one last, quick look at the cauldron in the sink, he hopped into the green flames, and called out, "St. Mungo's!"

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To Be Continued...