A Matter of Time

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to any of the canon Harry Potter characters present in this work.

Strong Bonds

1991

"And Farhound makes a brilliant goal. That is ten points to The Tutshill Tornados. I must admit that this game is turning into an absolute route. Cannons fans looking for their first victory of the season against a team which has not seen such a bad year in decades are looking to be disappointed once more."

Ginny reflected that, perhaps, attending a quidditch match was not what Kingsley intended when he told her to search places to which her brother might feel drawn. Ron probably would love to see a game in which his favourite club could conceivably win, but, unless he had gotten his hands on a pile of galleons in the past, her brother could never afford the tickets. However, having access to large quantities of disposable gold was one of the perks of using an unmonitored Ministry account for her search. She needed a break, and this was one night off she could hopefully justify.

Even if he was a reasonably decent bloke most of the time, Auror Shacklebolt was a slave driver to those working under his command. Ginny would definitely have to stroke auror off her list of potential careers. Why couldn't she have been given Hermione or Tonks' role?

Hermione and Tonks had been given permission to spend their year protecting Harry and the timeline at Hogwarts. How unfair was that? They would get to laze around in classes they took eons ago, unconcerned about final marks, while Ginny was sent romping around Wizarding Britain. Maybe she could talk Kingsley into sending her to Egypt: Ron had really liked it there, and she could use some work on her tan. It wasn't as if Ron was just going to spontaneously pop up in front of her; he was evading standard issue Ministry locator charms for Merlin's sake.

Gulping down another mouthful of butterbeer, as the Cannons seeker was taken in by a sloppy Wronski's feint, crashing into the pitch at thirty miles an hour, the youngest Weasley scowled more fiercely. That feint, even if far worse than her one-time boyfriend's move, reminded her of Harry.

That was the worst part of scouring England, Scotland and Ireland. She wanted to help Harry; that was so large a part of her reason for coming on this ridiculous mission. True: she did want to drag her git of an older brother back to his proper time before he caused enough trouble to land himself a life-time sentence in Azkaban. Nonetheless, her greatest desire was to talk with Harry again, and see his emerald eyes twinkling in amusement. Kingsley putting her on this dead end assignment was so boring, and such a waste of everyone's time when there were so many important things for her to do.

Thus, she had devoted her morning to doing reconnaissance: in other words, following Harry around Surrey and muggle London. She deserved the time off, and Ron had spent some time at both Number Four Privet Drive, as well as platform nine and three-quarters. If Kingsley, found out, she had some shaky justifications prepared. Just because she apparently lacked the necessary impartiality, did not mean that she could not give Harry some help. Admittedly, her short meeting with her long-time love seemed to do little more than whet her appetite for more of him, but that was not her fault. The fiery witch simply felt so useless; she was not doing anything worthwhile. She needed to find something interesting with which she could involve herself before the boredom and longing drove her spare. Quidditch just wasn't cutting it.

"And Tornados' seeker Rodgers has gone into a sharp dive! Does he see the snitch? He does, and he's got it! Of course, there wasn't much competition with Cannons seeker Williams smeared across the field, but the Tornados are breaking into celebration. That's a victory for the Tornados: 340-20! What a match!"

Ginny was not expected back at headquarters for a few hours yet. Maybe she could hit The Three Broomsticks: Rosmerta was usually good for some decent conversation. Tomorrow she would be back on her brother's nonexistent trail, so she might as well use the night to her best advantage.

1991

The twins both spun in Ron's direction, and he released a curse under his breath.

"Come on out ickle Ronniekins; we hear you."

In his left hand, illuminated by his wand, Fred was holding the Marauder's Map. Could this night get any worse? Sighing in surrender to the machinations of fate, Ron slipped the cloak off of he and Harry, revealing them to his brothers.

"We're here, you bloody interfering gits."

"Ah, ickle Ronniekins, you should not speak to your elders in such a manner."

"Indeed Fred, methinks we should offer our dear brother a cleaning charm for his mouth."

"You are generous, indeed, George, but I would first like to wonder how our brother got his hands on such a marvelous cloak."

Ron groaned inwardly. His brothers, unlike Harry (who had so little experience in the magical world), would know that he had not just happened to stumble across an invisibility cloak; such things were rare, highly sought after, and, most of all, expensive. Alright then: he would give them a taste of the truth, and, with any luck, his friend might play along.

"Where do you think? It's Harry's."

Harry's eyes popped out of his head at this pronouncement.

"What are you-"

Ron cut his best friend off with a pointed look.

Placing a hand each on Harry's shoulders, the twins sagely nodded in unison.

"Indeed, it is as we suspected."

"In addition to being a heroic defeater of dark wizards, Harry Potter is a purveyor of pranks par excellence."

Ron had seen enough of the twins' antics. They were short on time. Using his unburdened arm, Ron wrenched Harry away from his brothers, virtually dragging his comrade towards the dorms.

"You two nitwits can do this later. Right now we have to get to the common room before the professors find us. They're already probably combing the halls after what we did to the library."

Grinning once more, Fred and George caught up to their brother with a few, quick, longer strides.

"And what would that be Ronniekins? We had figured you were just off to pick up some books," they replied gesturing in tandem to the books Ron held. "Did you, perhaps, make an ickle messy poo?"

By this time, Ron was noticing that Harry had become noticeably agitated. The tall red head knew that his friend hated not understanding events, and must be going spare between the cloak, spells, lies and his brothers. However, before he could move to reassure Harry, the messy-haired boy exploded, digging his feet in so that Ron's progression ground to a stop. His eyes flashed.

"No. Ron hurled half the books and shelves across the library. Now I want to know what's going on. Who are you two? How could you see us, and what is the big deal about the cloak?"

Having said his piece, Harry relaxed, awaiting a reply. Ron, however, was not quite so interested in having said conversation and, therefore, decided to resume his climb towards the tower, pulling along Harry by his left arm with far greater ease than previously.

"Come on. Say whatever you want, but get back to the common room first!"

This time Ron's brothers chose to remain silent, following in their irate sibling's wake. How could Ron do anything like his friend described? Admittedly, he might be exaggerating, but, between Harry's testimony and the evidence of the invisibility cloak, the two pranksters were starting to get the feeling that they had not quite cottoned on to everything. Talking with Harry and Ron might be worth waiting for. Besides only a few stairways had separated them from the common room, all of which were acting quite cooperatively. Thus, almost before they had even come to their determination, the twins were being ushered past the fat lady's portrait by their younger brother, who was now breathing quite heavily from his jaunt.

Still huffing, Ron turned towards his older siblings, glaring. "So how did you find us? We were invisible after all, and I know you didn't see us leave the tower."

The twins exchanged looks, and affected a dignified air. "Now Ron, as your elder brothers, we feel we deserve a few secrets of our own."

"Alright then. We're not telling you anything, and you won't even get to touch the cloak."

"Now, I would think that would be Harry's choice, wouldn't it? It's his cloak after all, and I'm sure he can tell us all about your great adventure in the library."

Ron looked to his friend for support, but found something entirely different.

"Yeah, it is mine." Harry grabbed the cloak off Ron's shoulder. "But that doesn't mean I still don't want to hear how you found us. After all, we were invisible."

Fred and George seemed to exchange some feeling with their eyes and then nodded.

"Alright then: I suppose fair's fair."

Reluctantly, Fred handed Harry the Marauder's Map. All over the map, named dots were moving through the corridors of Hogwarts. Severus Snape tore across the dungeons, while Professor McGonagall swept through the upper levels, and Argus Filch walked straight through what should have been a wall, entering a narrow passageway. In the Gryffindor common room, Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, Fred and George Weasley were standing fairly near to one another. Eyes widening behind his spectacles, Harry simply stared at the mischief-making tool in disbelief. Ron, noting his friend's appearance, did his best to appear surprised.

"Bloody hell? Where'd you get something like this?"

"Nicked it from right under Filch's nose we did. It's a right useful little toy. So, what do you think, Harry?"

An awed "Wow," was all the boy who lived could manage.

Taking advantage of Harry's shock, Ron peered at another corner of the map: the Gryffindor girls' dormitories. He may as well confirm one of his suppositions for certain, while he had the map. Sure enough, two Hermione Grangers were sleeping a few rooms away from one another. She was here for sure then.

"Alright then. That's our trick, so what were you up to?"

Finally beginning to recover, Harry shrugged.

"I don't know; it was Ron's idea. We were going to go search for secret passages as well, but we got a little sidetracked."

Now Ron found all inquiring eyes on him. He shrugged uncomfortably under the intent gazes.

"I just needed a couple of books, I s'pose: nothing special."

"Of course, of course," Fred replied far too easily. "So I'm sure you wouldn't mind if George and I just took a peek."

In fact, he did mind, but that was of little relevance because, as Fred was talking, George had nicked the tome on top of his stack. Ignoring Ron's protests, the older brother turned to the first page and began reading aloud:

"Occlumency and Legilimency are ancient arts, practiced first by magi of the Persian Empire. These potent magics are used to conceal and reveal the minds of others, often without an unpracticed victim being any the wiser. While legilimency has been considered one of the lesser dark magics for centuries, occlumency has been a requisite study for all aurors since the fourth century C.E."

By this time, Ron had given up hopes of keeping his activities from the twins and Harry. Somehow, he would have to explain how he found out about legilimency and occlumency (undoubtedly inventing more lies in the process). Fred, George and even Harry appeared utterly stunned; none of them seemed to have expected anything like what the book had revealed. George grinned, putting the book down and offering Ron a hefty slap on the back.

"I knew you had it in you, little brother!"

Apparently, agreeing with his twin, Fred echoed his actions with another backslap.

"This stuff sounds brilliant! Can you imagine what we could pull off! I knew we didn't have another Percy on our hands!"

Responding to his brothers' infectious enthusiasm, Ron found a shy grin creeping onto his face. Fred and George had never acted so accepting towards him before. Even Harry was smiling, if a little uncertainly.

"Good on you mate! Hope you won't mind if we borrow a couple of copies." Each twin grabbed a heavy text. Offering their brother and his friend jaunty waves, Hogwarts finest jokers ascended the stairs to the boys' dormitory. "I reckon we've got some studying to do, eh George?"

"Quite so, dear brother. After all, dedication to academic pursuits should always come first."

Fred and George's disappearance left only Harry and Ron in the common room, neither knowing quite how to deal with the other. For once, Harry was the one to break the awkwardness. Stepping forward, he held out the invisibility cloak to Ron.

"Here… er… I guess you can have this back now. Look, I'm s-"

"Don't worry about it," Ron cut Harry off, quirking his lips into a crooked grin. "I should have probably told you ahead of time. We're mates, right?"

"Right."

"Then I figure we'll both mess up sometimes, so, if we're okay, then…" His eyes twinkled merrily as he paused dramatically, "What do you say to some mind reading?"

This time the hesitance was gone from Harry's smile. "As if I need legilimency to read your mind. What's there to know between hungry and starved?"

"Hey! I resent that! I only had a couple-"

"Hundred chocolate frogs. We shouldn't forget about the four lots of roast chicken and steak either. At the rate you eat, Hogwarts'll probably be out of food within the week!"

Exerting his best effort in the attempt, Ron tried to summon up his most justifiably offended expression. Harry was not getting away with taking the mickey out of his eating habits. He would not laugh.

Ron snorted.

It wasn't funny.

The eleven year-old wizard bit the inside of his lip.

There was no way he would let Harry poke fun at him.

"I s'pose that choked up shivering look means that the food's coming back up then? Probably inevitable that would happen. Would you mind if I just left the room first, though? These are new robes, after all."

Ron chuckled, and that was the limit of his self-control, as the laughter came pouring out.

"I'll get you, Potter!"

He lunged for Harry's robe, missing as the smaller boy lithely dodged out of the way.

"Better speed up then. After all, you've only got until morning."

It would not be until far later in the night that Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley finally made their way to their four poster beds.

1991

Nymphadora Tonks did not recall being in any way incompetent, or wholly ignorant at the age of eleven. Although, perhaps, her memories displayed some positive colouring, the young auror felt certain that she had never been as utterly clueless as all of Lavender Brown's contemporaries. Really, the great hall was not all that difficult to locate. The only first year who seemed to agree with her was Hermione Granger. Then again, spending time with her friend's younger contemporary was often quite grating for a host of other reasons.

"Honestly Lavender, can't you chew with your mouth closed?"

Tonks did not quite understand how Lavender Brown's eating habits became Hermione Granger's concern, but, apparently, having decided that Parvati was too flighty for her tastes, Hermione had latched on to the more capable, if notably sarcastic, Lavender in search of a first friend. Thus, she had decided that Lavender simply needed to have her most evident faults corrected. Then she would be an ideal classmate with whom to spend time. At least three times that morning, Tonks had already found herself fighting the urge to hex her new 'friend,' and they had not yet even made it through breakfast. Perhaps, she should have been more sympathetic when Harry and Ron complained about their best friend's tendency to incessantly nag.

Why couldn't anything be interesting be happening?

"Lavender, come on. Classes are starting; we should not be late on the first day!"

Oh joy. She would now get to attend classes on how to appropriately point one's wand, so as not to accidentally hex oneself. If Flitwick told that bloody story about Barrufio and his buffalo again, she would scream. Why couldn't a horde of death eaters make a surprise assault upon Harry, or something like that. She really needed to let off some steam.

Only half-aware, Tonks permitted Hermione to half-drag her to morning classes. Harry and Ron seemed a little bit tired that morning. Then again, she supposed that, at that age, yesterday might have been quite the late night for the two friends. They did, at least, make their way to charms class on time. Indeed, Professor Flitwick was just as stimulating as the metamorphamagus had anticipated; within five minutes of roll call's end, she was fast asleep. That was, she slept for approximately ten seconds before a rather painful elbow ground into her tender left side.

"Ow!" she exclaimed, knocking her quill and parchment to the floor as the clumsy auror shot up, too quickly jarred from sleep.

"Ah, excellent: some class participation! Please Miss Brown, show us your best!"

Having no idea what was going on, Tonks just took out her wand and waved it a bit, hoping he would clarify precisely what she was demonstrating.

Instead, however, the professor merely released a gleeful squeal. "Yes, yes, did you see that, class? That was a perfect swish and flick! You may be seated, Miss Brown. Ten points to Gryffindor!"

Expecting Hermione might have calmed down once the house points were awarded, Tonks was surprised and, quite frankly, annoyed, that nothing of the sort had occurred. The diminutive, bushy-haired witch was already reprimanding her in a hushed tone.

"You were quite lucky there, Lavender, but you need to stay awake. Proper wand movement is crucial!"

"But I have it right, don't I? So, it's no problem."

"Hmmph," Hermione groused, haughtily lifting her chin. "One lucky stroke does not make a fine education. You should show more commitment to your studies."

Hoping to make some sort of cutting remark about how much studying Hermione could get done while spending all her time nagging like some nosy granny, Tonks was most incensed to discover that Hermione seemed to be taking excellent notes as she reprimanded her chosen friend. Unable to think of any other characteristic appropriate for a sufficiently biting retort, the female auror gritted her teeth, and contemplated trying out a silencing charm. This early in her education, not even Hermione could have possibly learned the countercurse to such an advanced spell. Then again, if the witch did figure the counter out, her nagging would, undoubtedly, redouble in intensity. Once again, Tonks felt a faint stirring of pity for Harry and Ron; they actually became friends with this academic monster. Clearly, the two were either idiots or masochists.

"Come on, Lavender! Focus! This part is really important!"

"Argh."

As soon as possible, useful resource or not, Tonks was going to abandon Hermione. Nothing was worth the suffering which she experienced in the young witch's company. She had not even stayed awake during classes when she was eleven. There was absolutely no way she could go through the same torture awake in her mid-twenties.

1991

Ron was fairly bored by the end of his morning classes. He had originally hoped to partner with Hermione during classes, hoping that she would be able to make it look as if any unusual talent on his part was the result of her brilliant advice. Unfortunately, the eleven-year old witch had spent her morning with Lavender. That pairing was awfully strange, but, perhaps, he had changed something. Parvati was certainly looking lonely, while Lavender spent half her classes being nagged by Hermione; Ron doubted their friendship would be particularly lasting.

Instead of Hermione, Ron had spent the morning with Harry, which was a difficult balancing act. Harry had seen him cast some fairly advanced magic already, so he could not simply feign incompetence. On the other hand, with Hermione's future counterpart in the school, he could not have word traveling that he was some sort of prodigy.

Ultimately, the youngest Weasley boy figured that, if he made a concerted effort to improve Harry's skills, he could just keep up with his friend's current ability, and, hopefully, Hermione Granger's capabilities would sufficiently dwarf the rest of the class so that their skills would escape comment. As well, the training was insurance, in case Harry ended up actually facing a dark wizard at some point, although, with any luck, such an event could be avoided. The end result was that, while the professors had taken little notice of Ronald Weasley thus far, his best friend was casting the red-haired time traveler some odd glances.

"Ron, what's up? I know-Oomph!"

As Harry listened to Harry with half an ear, someone, rushing along the halls, knocked into the boy who lived, a familiar bushy-haired head buried in her Transfiguration textbook. Ron thought he saw tears glistening and stopped short. Had he said something? No: he had not talked with or about Hermione all morning. Moreover, this was not supposed to happen until Halloween.

"Hey, Harry, I'll catch up to you later, all right?"

Not even waiting for a response, Ron hurried after Hermione. He had always hated it when she cried, and this time, could not even trace the cause; he had not said anything. The crimson-haired wizard felt that, at the very least, he should make sure that his future friend was alright.

Longer legs swiftly eating up the distance between them, Ron managed to catch up to Hermione just before she ran into one of the girls' bathrooms. Unwilling to lose her after going so far, he quickly blocked the door with his larger frame, panting slightly from the pace he had been forced to maintain.

"Hey, Hermione. What's wrong? You couldn't have messed up a test or anything; we haven't even had one yet."

That was apparently the wrong comment to make. Wheeling around without more than a sniffling sob of acknowledgement, the girl proceeded to walk in the other direction with a desperately swift gait.

"Hey, stop that! I'm trying to help here!"

Practically leaping from his place in front of the washroom, Ron grabbed Hermione by the shoulder, spinning her to face him once more.

"What's bloody well wrong?"

However, not even being red-eyed with tears glistening could steal all of Hermione Granger's inner composure and tendency towards censure.

"Don't s-swear. It's really rude."

Smiling slightly at the familiarity of her words, Ron replied, "Now that's the more like the Hermione Granger I'm used to. How about this? I won't swear anymore, if you tell me what's wrong."

"Why do you care? It's not like you have no friends and-"

"Well, I do care. Mum always taught me that I shouldn't let girls cry on their own."

"Well that's fairly sexist, you know. What if it was a boy crying?"

This time Ron could not resist a small chuckle at the similarity to his previous experiences with Hermione.

"Blokes don't do that sort of stuff."

"Well that's just stupid. If you must know then, Lavender said that she did not want to spend time with me anymore." Hermione choked up at this slightly. "She said that she wanted to have some fun, and that I shouldn't be such a nag, if I wanted to make any friends." At this, the tiny witch burst into tears once more.

As many times as Ron might have thought almost precisely the same words, watching Hermione react to the sting of Lavender's remarks seemed to touch something deep inside of him. His Hermione might be strong and powerful, as well as, if he was being particularly honest with himself, bloody scary, but this girl was so small and hurt. He felt like he had been punched when he saw the heart-broken expression on her face. That feeling, more than anything else, motivated what he did next.

"I bet you don't want to be around me anymore now that you know. I mean, I'm just some annoying nag, and, and…"

Without ever making any conscious decision one way or the other, Ron stepped forward, and pulled the little girl into his arms.

"That's not true at all. You're really smart and, well, great. I mean, you're probably the best witch in the class and you were only trying to help Lavender. If she doesn't see that, it's her problem."

Hermione seemed to have tensed every muscle in her body, while he held her gently. He hoped she didn't mind that he was doing this; he certainly hadn't thought about it before hand. She just looked so hurt, and broken, and not like Hermione ever should appear. After a few seconds, she moved away, out of his reach, and Ron inwardly groaned. He hoped she was not angry. Hopefully, he had not merely made matters worse.

When her face came upward, however, anger was not the emotion which dominated her brown eyes. She looked almost grateful, although something else he could not grasp lay behind those eyes as well.

"Thank you." She blushed. "I mean, you didn't have to do that, and it was really nice. I'm sorry I cried all over your robes."

"Don't worry about it. They were pretty ratty already. D'you want to eat lunch with Harry and me?"

"Er, no, I…" She blushed again, and Ron began to wonder at that occurrence. He did not remember Hermione being quite so shy. "I'll just go back to my dormitory, if you don't mind? I should really study, and do some revision for potions, and clean up, and get some ink, and-"

He raised an eyebrow in amusement.

"You're babbling, Hermione."

This remark stopped the witch short, and her face flushed an even deeper red before her eyes came up again from where the orbs had settled near his feet.

"I do not babble. I am merely-"

"Rambling?" the red-head offered helpfully.

"No. I just… I am walking back to the tower. Yes. That is precisely what I am doing."

On that note, the bushy-haired girl turned, head held high once more, and purposefully ascended a nearby staircase, failing to note that it did not lead in even the general direction of the Gryffindor tower.

Ron merely chuckled. Hermione could be awfully amusing sometimes.

Brisk exit or not, that night at dinner, Hermione sat right next to Ron, flanking his left side, opposite Harry, who sat on his right. Ron's male best friend offered him a questioning look at her appearance, but decided to leave queries regarding her presence for later. He could always find out about whatever happened between the two of them later that night, and the bushy-haired girl seemed to focus the majority of her attention upon Ron regardless. Considering the reputation she was already garnering among the student body, Harry doubted that Hermione Granger would be joining he and Ron in tonight's foray into the secret passages of Hogwarts. Admittedly, they had not been able to come anywhere close to memorizing the Marauder's Map, while Fred and George displayed its contents, but they had seen at least a few interesting locations where they could start. Even if the last one left him slightly tired in the morning, Harry would not trade his late night adventures with Ron for anything.