Tempus Fugit
By Fangs of Poison
Disclaimer: No, I don't own anything. Does anyone else, other than me, find these really stupid and pointless? I mean, if I did own these characters, I would be selling my stories, not posting them on the internet for everyone to see and read for free!
Chapter Three:
Hermione breath caught in her throat, she stared at Dumbledore, her large, brown eyes searching his worn, aged face. She looked into his crystal blue eyes, noting that, indeed, the customary twinkle was missing. Her own eyes began to burn, the salty tears welling up in them. She took a deep shuddering breath and momentarily glanced away, gaining the control she needed.
A large, yet undeniably fake smile was plastered onto her face as she faced the headmaster once more.
"May-maybe you've just forgotten how to get me back!" she exclaimed, stuttering only slightly in her panic, "I mean, I got here, didn't I? Yes, yes, there must be a way to get me back."
Dumbledore stared down at her, an unnaturally grave expression on his face, "No, Miss Granger, I'm afraid there is no way to get you back."
As if this were a cue, the smile fell. Hermione broke down. She started sobbing uncontrollably and grabbed the rough hospital sheets to her face, with a force that, were they not enchanted, would have ripped them to shreds.
Rocking back and forth, her face red with emotion, she didn't notice as the Headmaster's arms wrapped around her.
"My dear," he comforted, "It will be alright, eventually, we will find a way to get you back. Don't cry."
Her sobs quieted and she fell limp against Dumbledore. Thoroughly exhausted, both physically and emotionally, she fell into a deep, yet not very restful, slumber.
The next time the Headmaster came to visit, nearly a day had passed, and Hermione had come to terms with, though she was not particularly happy about it, the fact that she might not be able to return to her time.
"Good morning, Miss Granger." Dumbledore greeted, in what Hermione felt was an annoyingly cheerful tone.
"Headmaster." She replied, nodding.
"I presume you are still a student here, correct?" he questioned, that damnable twinkle in his eye.
"Yes, I am." She replied, keeping her responses to a bare minimum.
"Well, we can't have you missing your lessons, now can we?" he asked, grinning madly.
"Professor Dumbledore!" she exclaimed, finally breaking her sullen almost-silence, "You can't possibly think it's a good idea for me to join in with the students!"
"Why ever not?"
"Use your head, Professor! I know all of the students' futures!" she thundered, "How did this seem at all like a good idea?"
There it was again, that infernal twinkle. "How could he be smiling at a time like this!" Hermione mused, "It's not funny! I could change everything!"
"Miss Granger," Dumbledore started, a huge smile under his long beard, "From what I can tell you seem like a sensible girl. As such, I expect you will not speak of the future to anyone."
Hermione sighed in annoyance and closed her eyes. How could she not speak to anyone of the future? Think of all the lives that would be saved! Besides, how was she ever going to behave normally around people like Harry's parents, or Sirius Black? Not to mention Peter! How was she to behave normally around him? And what of Remus? How was she ever going to act as though she were peers with her former professor?
Dragging her thoughts away from the Marauders and back to the present, she voiced the question itching at the back of her mind, "Yes, but how am I going to explain my sudden appearance here? I can't be a transfer student, I have no accent! Not to mention the fact that I was found, how did Madam Pomfrey say, passed out on the floor, I believe."
Dumbledore frowned in thought, "I suppose," he began slowly, "You could tell the students that you came from the future, and if they ask, tell them that you don't know of anyone's fate. Yes, that would work."
Hermione mentally shook her head, no, it wouldn't work. It would be very difficult for her not to say anything to anyone about what happened in the future. If she didn't get close to any of them, it might be easier, though. Yes, that was it. She wouldn't give anyone the time of day.
Oh! But that wouldn't work, either! She couldn't flat out ignore everyone, especially if she were stuck in this time! She'd have to find a way to interact with others and just…keep her mouth closed.
"Yes," she said, a determined glint in her eye, "Yes, Professor, I do believe that would work."
Dressed in her robes from the day before (she didn't have any others with her, but at least they were freshly laundered), Hermione was escorted by the Headmaster to his office (as though she didn't know the way!), where she would be, for the second time in her life, sorted.
Upon entering, she was greeted with the familiarity of the room. Apparently, Professor Dumbledore wasn't a fan of change. The same trinkets were sitting on his desk, Fawkes was still perched on his stand in the corner, and the same portraits of the Heads of yesteryear were still hanging up, pretending to be asleep.
"Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, pulling her from her internal musings, "I believe it's time for you to be sorted."
At this, a few portraits cracked open their eyes in wonder, quickly shutting them, else they be detected, and one or two even exchanged whispered conversation at this pronouncement.
Hermione nodded, her throat dry, and she reached out a trembling hand to the worn, tattered, hat.
"Why am I so nervous?" she wondered, "I've been through this before, just put the damn thing on!"
And that she did. The hat quickly fell down past her nose, blocking all else from view. Quite suddenly, a voice she hadn't heard in seven years, but one she was sure she'd never forget, began to wheezily speak.
"Miss Hermione Granger, how extraordinary! From what I can see here, you've been sorted before!" the hat said.
"Yes, seven years ago for me, but many years in your future…"
"Yes, yes, I'm quite aware, now do be quiet while I attempt to sort you!" the hat replied in a mildly irritated tone.
Hermione quickly clamped her proverbial mouth shut. She didn't know why, but the hat's orders were oddly compelling.
"Well, my dear, I still say that Gryffindor is the place for you…"
"No! Couldn't I go somewhere else? It would be awfully difficult for me to be there! Please! How about Ravenclaw?" Hermione thought, frantically.
"Ravenclaw? You feel that you're smart enough to be in Ravenclaw? Aren't you a bit arrogant! Maybe Slytherin's the place for you!" the hat replied, "Well, even though you are fit for Ravenclaw, and yes, even for Slytherin, I still say that Gryffindor's is what's best."
"You're sure of it?"
"My dear, I'm a hat, of course I'm sure. Besides, you're needed in GRYFFINDOR!"
The hat was abruptly pulled off of Hermione's head, leaving her to ponder what exactly the hat meant by saying she was "needed".
A/N: Phwoar! Exhausting writing that, it is. (Yoda speak, if ever I've seen it) I've just finished an English Regents (although, of course, you're getting this weeks after I wrote it! HA!) and am thoroughly exhausted! Thanks to all who reviewed! I appreciate it very much! Leave a review, too, so my under-appreciated muse can feel better! Besides, I need some cheering up! I just had ALL FOUR of my wisdom teeth removed, that deserves a review or two, in my book.