Title: Splintered Destiny
Category: Harry Potter
Character/Pairings: Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, various others. No specific 'ships.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and Scholastic etc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Rating: 13
Word Count: 1,299
Spoilers: PS, CoS, PoA, GoF, OotP, HBP, various things from the Lexicon.
Summary: Hermione Granger. Harry Potter. A time-turner. A locket. And R.A.B. You have no idea.
Notes: Just to be clear, this is NOT a proper Hermione/Harry 'ship fic. While there will be some elements of romance (because, face it, they're angst ridden teenagers), it will not be a main theme, or even the only ship. First couple of parts are slow, but they do pick up. Promise.
Part 2
[/… you walk on like a woman in suffering / won't even bother now to tell me why / you come alone, letting all of us savor the moment / leaving me broken another time / you come on like a bloodstained hurricane / leave me alone, let me be this time / you carry on like a holy man pushing redemption / i don't want to mention, the reason i know / that i am stricken / and can't let you go …/ ] - Stricken, Disturbed, Ten Thousand Fists
"Nothing." The word was hissed under her breath, and anyone who knew the girl sitting at the table would have been stunned to see her slam the heavy book shut, heedless of the brittle pages and broken binding. Harry Potter knew the girl in question very well, but, echoing her frustration, closed his own tome.
"Well, we did know that it wouldn't be easy." He offered the statement half heartedly, if only because he thought that one of the two should be the slightest bit optimistic about their search. And since it was obvious that Hermione wasn't going to cooperate in that respect, he would shoulder the burden with the utmost equanimity.
"Three days, Harry, three days. And we've got nothing." Hermione slumped down onto the book, blearily wiping gritty eyes before burying her head into her hands.
"Well, it wouldn't be the first time we've needed to find something and thought we had nothing. Remember Flamel?" Being optimistic, Harry decided, was bloody annoying. Judging from the muffled curse that left Hermione's lips, he was sure that she felt the same. "And we have my drawings, remember?"
"Harry, no offence or anything, but a four year old could have drawn a cup better than that." Hermione lifted her head long enough to smirk at him and continued before Harry had processed her remark. "Plus, the drawings of the cup won't help us much unless we know where it is. And since Hogwarts doesn't seem to keep yearbooks in the library, we can't figure out who R.A.B is. And we need him to find the locket."
Harry scowled and gave up being optimistic as a lost cause.
"Gods Hermione, Hogwarts is closing. Why in Merlin's name are you in the library now, of all times? You did get the owl about exams being postponed, didn't you? And Harry, mate, have you gone bonkers? What're you doing in here?"
Ronald Weasley's voice was pitched at its usual volume, loud and boisterous, even within the confines of the library. Seeing him walk towards their table, Hermione surreptitiously slid Harry's drawings into her bag, hastily knocking in some books from their unread pile in as well. Frowning at the books, she decided against pulling them out, figuring that if she did, Ron would choose that moment to display one of his rare moments of intuitiveness.
"Really, Ronald. This is a library. You do realise that you aren't allowed to yell in here?"
"Bloody hell, 'Mione, you two are the only ones stupid enough to be in here. Even Pince isn't in here!"
Harry winced as Hermione's eyes flared angrily, before sighing at Ron's inability to think before speaking. Everyone knew that if there were two things you didn't do in Hermione's presence, they were using the hated nickname and calling her stupid. Of course, breaking rules was up there with them, but since Hermione had broken too many rules to say much without being hypocritical, she wasn't quite as bad as she had been in first year. On the other hand, he couldn't say much about himself either. The events over the last few years flashed through his head, and he hoped he didn't look as guilty as he felt. When would he learn? Hermione had told him, warned him, and he never listened. And she was always right.
Ron finally caught sight of the murderous glare on Hermione's face and paled, backing away slightly.
"Um, ok, 'Mione, I didn't mean it, not like that anyway." Harry sighed, rolling his eyes. Six years of being best friends with the girl, and Ron Weasley still didn't have a clue.
"Ron, we'll meet you in the common room, okay? I promised Hermione that I'd help her look for something." The redhead threw him a grateful look and took off, dust swirling in his wake. Hermione smirked, looking at Harry with raised eyebrows.
"So now you're helping me look for something?" Harry grinned sheepishly, shrugging.
"Well, I couldn't very well say that we're looking for a way to destroy Voldemort's soul, now could I?" Hermione stared at him, waiting. "And, well, technically, it really was your idea to look in the library."
"Of course it was." She smiled quickly, before lugging her satchel to her shoulders. "Now, c'mon, before Ron decides to see what's taking us so long. Plus, something tells me that we're not going to find anything more out tonight."
"We can't afford to waste any more time Hermione." The brunette nodded sombrely.
"I know. That's why I'm going to ask Prof – Remus, for help."
"What? No, Hermione!" He jumped up, green eyes flashing. "You can't! You promised!"
"Relax Harry; I'm not going to tell him anything." She rested a placating hand on his arm. "All I'm, well, actually, you, are going to do is ask him if he still has any of his old yearbooks."
Harry's shoulders slumped with relief. "Oh."
"We need those books Harry. We need to know who R.A.B. is."
"I'll owl him tonight. Tell him that I want to see them when they were younger."
"If we're lucky, Tonks will be there and he'll be too distracted to think about it too much." She smirked as Harry gagged slightly.
"Hermione, that's gross!" He shivered, trying to banish the ghastly images. "Yuck!"
"Harry, as long as it gets us those books, I don't care what they're doing." She paused, a vaguely disgusted look appearing on her face. "Ugh. I can't believe I actually said that."
"Trust me, neither can I."
"Yuck."
"I believe I already covered that."
"Oh, right."
The two teens stared at each other, laughter bubbling in their throats. Hermione desperately tried to stifle the giggles, suddenly aware that Dumbledore had been dead less than a week and it wasn't right that they should be laughing already. She sobered quickly, but was still unable to stop the shrill laugh that escaped her throat. Tears sprang to her eyes and she blinked rapidly to keep them at bay.
She would not cry. She was not weak. And she would not let this mysterious R.A.B. beat her. "Let's go Harry."
They made the trek from the library to the Gryffindor common room in silence, each lost in their thoughts as the walked slowly. The portraits stared at them dolefully and whispered between themselves. The Fat Lady looked at the two kindly and merely waited for the two to state the password.
"Bête noire." The portrait smiled at them sadly as Hermione spoke, silently allowing them to enter. Stepping into the common room, Hermione couldn't help but smile at the sight of Ron sprawled across the couch, arm and leg hanging over the edges.
"Figures." Harry walked over to him and poked him in the chest. Ron shifted and let out a soft snore. Hermione shook her head exasperatedly and summoned a blanket, settling it over the sleeping redhead.
"G'nite Harry." Harry's response followed her up the stairs and into her empty dorm. Whispering a quick spell to lighten the room, she lay down on her bed, staring up at the dull ceiling of the canopy. The books in her bag weighed heavily on her mind, and she gave in to the need to read them, banishing the thought of sleep.
The first two she pulled out of the bag were as useless as all the ones she had read in the library. The third had potential. It was the fourth that had her bolting upright, skin tingling with excitement. Her hands caressed the nondescript cover reverently as she opened the book again, eyes poring over the faded writing.
'A Brief, but Concise History on the Four Founders of Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry' as told by Nikola Depe, only surviving child of Helga Hufflepuff.
Oh, yeah, she was good.