Hello hello my darlings!
I got some really exciting news this morning, and it only made me want to finish up this chapter as soon as I could. Fall Through Time got nominated for the "Wait, Granger. I even put a bow on it" Winter 2017 Dramione Fanfiction Awards. Which is insane and I still can't believe it is actually happening.
You can vote here: htt*ps:/*/*docs*.*google*.com*/for*ms/*d/e*/1FAI*pQLSdl*uGZR8*KgrLbd*EVtD*2-sBuQH*sVqCgr2aO*iJRito4*cH7nx*4SQ/viewf*orm*?c=0*&w=1 (just remove the * since ffnet doesn't like outside links).
Also, 600 reviews! I feel so blessed right now and I still can't wrap my head around it. Seriously, thank you all for reading this story. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Please leave a review and let me know what you think ;)
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Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and only the story line and any OC's belong to me.
Hammylammy, you guessed what was going to happen in this chapter so kudos to you my dear! ;p
Hermione's head was pounding, her temple throbbing and there was a tiny, persistent black spot in the outer corner of her vision in her left eye.
She'd managed to strip off her costume, toss it under her bed, scramble over to her dresser-yanking open the middle drawer-and to fumble around to find a nightie in record timing. Hermione internally made a noise of triumph as she found one, hastily pulling it over her head she dove through her curtains and quickly settled herself under her covers.
Then she waited, chest heaving, eyes wide open. Each second moved tortuously slow, dragging its feet and taking its sweet time.
There was a soft click, and the door creaked open softly, light footsteps moved towards Hermione's bed and she shut her eyes instantly-steadying and slowing her breathing.
Her curtains began to rustle, and she fought the sudden urge to scratch her scalp. She remained absolutely still. The soft and gentle way Minerva reached down and began to shake Hermione's shoulders took her by surprise-why she didn't know, McGonagall was a fierce lioness that took care of her cubs. It was one of the reasons why she'd always loved and looked up to the woman.
"Wake up, Miss Potter," McGonagall murmured softly, and Hermione's eyes fluttered open only to be greeted with a sad smile.
"Professor?" Hermione rasped out, her throat raw from singing along to songs that her parents raised her on, and yelling in general to be heard over the blasting music.
"Wake up my dear...I'm sorry to say that there has been an incident," McGonagall said gently, one hand moving to stroke Hermione cheek.
Hermione moved to sit up, and McGonagall stepped back and straightened out so that she wasn't in the way.
"What happened?" Hermione asked calmly, not sure how her voice wasn't betraying the way her insides were screaming and ripping apart with worry and dread.
"It seems to be the work of-"
"Voldemort," Hermione said without hesitating, and didn't realise how strange it was for her to know or say his name until she glanced up at McGonagall and saw how ashen it was. Her Professor looked entirely taken aback, if not slightly perturbed.
Then a flicker of light flashed in McGonagall's eyes and she whispered gently, "you know how this all ends…" McGonagall's mouth was parted, as if she wanted to continue, but then her lips pressed together tightly and she nodded curtly at Hermione.
"From what the Ministry official told me over the floo, it appears to be a public statement of some sort, a show of power so to speak."
"He likes that-" Hermione started, but then her throat began to tighten, and it felt as if the air was being actively robbed from her lungs.
McGonagall must have noticed something was off, and she placed a hand on Hermione's shoulder, her face flooded with concern.
Hermione felt the pressure lessen slowly and greedily gulped in air the first chance she got. She clamped her eyes shut, raising her hands and pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes.
"The Vow," McGonagall stated coldly, silent fury radiating off of her skin. "I never should have helped him do it."
Hermione sighed heavily, rubbing her temples, "at least he means well."
"He could mean well all he wants, there are certain things you do not do," McGonagall huffed as Hermione got out of bed, and headed to the right of the room back to her dresser-that she noticed was currently open, she hadn't remembered to shut it. Oh well. She doubted McGonagall herself had made note of an open drawer in a teenage girl's bedroom.
"Trust me, Professor….there are much worse things," Hermione said as she shoved the middle drawer closed and tugged open the second drawer by the two round handles. She rifled through it for a few moments and withdrew a pair of James's blue plaid pyjama bottoms and one of Remus's jumpers-both items of clothing that she had appropriated.
Hermione stripped off her nightgown, and tossed it into the clothes hamper that she had next to her dresser. She stood there in the nude, but she strangely wasn't shy or embarrassed like she thought. Plus she knew that McGonagall had probably already turned away.
"Miss Potter."
"Yes, Professor?"
"I'll take the boys to my office and you can use my floo network to get to St. Mungo's."
A sharp pain shot through her heart at the mention of the hospital, but she licked her dry lips and responded with, "okay, Professor. I'll be there in a minute."
McGonagall's footfalls were soft and hurried as she left the dorm. Hermione glanced around and noticed that none of the other girls had been roused at any point-they hadn't even made a peep.
Outwardly she was quite calm, but internally she was a raging sea of nerves, fear and anxiety.
It was a handful of minutes before she had gotten dressed and exited the Common Room through the Portrait hole.
Hermione tried to think of anything but about what could have happened at the Ministry. It had to be Charlus. He must have been working late.
Hermione clenched her fists as she walked, silent tears rolling down her cheeks. She had been partying, drinking and getting frisky with her boyfriend whilst her Father was getting attacked.
Part of her knew that it wasn't her fault, and that she shouldn't feel guilty, but that did not dissuade the wave of guilt that was rolling around in the pit of her stomach.
No. It is my fault though, Hermione told herself. I could have done something about all of this, I could have saved everyone. I could...I could fix it.
All of the reasons-like jeopardizing Harry and her other friends' existence-suddenly got pushed aside by the pressing need to save her parents.
Her heart was being ripped into two, who did she save? She needed to talk to Draco.
Sterile white walls. The bitter smell of medicine, and whatever unique smell that always clung to the very fabric of hospitals filled her senses. The lights along the walls were too bright, too sharp.
This couldn't be real.
She hadn't been here in years, she had held onto the desperate hope she wouldn't need to come back for even longer.
For some reasons she couldn't hear any sound, she barely felt Remus's hand slip into hers. Her feet were gliding across the ground.
This had to be a nightmare, had to be. She wondered why she wasn't crying still. Perhaps it's because her mind had entered a state of denial. All external sensations suddenly didn't exist.
She was simply walking, letting Remus guide her.
He stopped in front of a cream door on their right.
Hermione's eyes followed Remus's hand as he closed it around the shiny silver doorknob and twisted it.
The sound of the hinges squeaking was buried under an ocean of white noise that was buzzing in her ears led her into the room, and in a rush, all of the surrounding noise flooded back into her system, and there he was. His thin bed was pushed against the wall adjacent to the door, the pure white sheets were grinning up at her, and tucked neatly around his body.
"Dorea, I told you I'm fine," Charlus insisted.
He was sitting up, talking, and even though he was a little pale, he looked okay. Hermione almost collapsed in relief.
"Daddy," Hermione cried, the tears spilling out now, racing out of her eyes. She practically ran across the room to her Father's side.
Charlus looked up in surprise, his raven locks a messy mop and there were dark circles under his hazel eyes. After a moment, a warm smile spread across his face, and he opened his arms.
Hermione immediately went into his comforting embrace, her face buried against the cheap fabric of the hospital gown that he was wearing.
She almost missed the sharp intake of breath that he took in, and when she tried to move back, he tightened his grip. Hermione reluctantly accepted that he wasn't going to let go of her, even if he was in pain. Though she kept as much of her weight off of him as possible.
Hermione heard Dorea snort, and she turned her face enough so that she could see her Mother's worried expression.
Dorea Potter didn't get shaken or scared easily, but her eyes were brimming with fear. Her expression melted into one of annoyance in an instant.
"You are not fine. That's just the potions they shoved into you talking."
"They said they'll need to keep me for observation for three days, and then I can go home...and that I should take it easy for the next week or so." Charlus's voice rumbled in Hermione's ears through his chest, and she could picture his jolly smile in her mind.
Dorea gave him a pointed look, and turned to hug Draco as he joined her side.
Hermione heard James's voice from her right, "what happened?"
"There was...an incident. I got off lucky. Jorkins and a couple of the others were badly injured…" Charlus trailed off.
No one knew what to say to that, but they were all thankful that at least Charlus only had minor injuries.
"Who was it? Who would break into the Department of Mysteries?" Sirius was the one speaking now.
"Incompetent people saying they don't know who did it," Dorea grumbled, her lip curling in disgust. "Utter hogwash. They know exactly who did it. It was that bloke Voldemort and his little followers who think that they're all that."
It was bizarre hearing the name from anyone other than Draco. Even if she had uttered it to McGonagall earlier, it was still strange. It still felt wrong.
Hermione shot Draco a knowing look; his response was a small grimace.
"Dorea," Charlus said in a soft warning tone.
"No. Charlus. We need to let them know what's going on. They can't be ignorant of the conflict arising around them."
Charlus merely sighed, his fingers moving to stroke Hermione's back.
"There have been...things, incidents, since sometime in nineteen seventy, and there are some rumours that it may have started before that-" Dorea started, pausing to brush Draco's hair off of his forehead, "-and disappearances have begun, strange murders, not to mention unexplainable deaths amongst the Muggle populace."
Charlus took over, "some people have started to call his followers Death Eaters. Most people however have waved it all off, said it's all unrelated…but that couldn't be farther from the truth. Whatever is happening...I fear it's only beginning."
Almost an hour later, Hermione was being dragged by Draco into a Utilities closet a little ways down the hall.
When he closed the door, he threw up locking and silencing charms wandlessly whilst muttering the incantation under his breath.
They were plunged into darkness, and Hermione centred herself and partially transformed-changing her eyes to a honeyed colour. Immediately Draco came into focus, and she had to assume that he'd done the same since he didn't look as if he was straining his eyes in order to see her.
"No, Hermione. Whatever you're thinking. No." Draco said firmly, shaking his head adamantly.
"We have to find the horcruxes and end this," Hermione replied heatedly.
"No. What about Harry? Ron? Ginny? Luna? The twins or Percy? They all haven't been born yet. We can't just fuck with time as we please."
"Draco-"
"No. You okay with none of them ever existing? Pansy, Theo, Blaise. Poof. Gone. We have to think about this Hermione," Draco closed the space between them, holding her face in his hands.
Hermione stared up at him defiantly. We have to do something," Hermione pressed.
"I agree, we should do something...but we haven't done that up until now because we discussed that it's too unpredictable. We have no idea what the outcome would be…"
"Fucking-don't you think I know that!" Hermione screamed in frustration.
Draco remained irritatingly silent, carefully studying her, his thumbs stroking her cheeks soothingly.
Before she knew it, a short, bitter laugh bubbled out of her, "it's funny how we've both changed our tune...I want to, you don't."
"Hermione...there are so many unknowns, and what if we actually do end up drastically changing the future, and it makes things worse, not better. We have to be careful," Draco said gently.
Several moments passed, honey brown eyes locked on stormy grey ones. Draco sighed softly through his nostrils before pulling her to him. "We're going to be okay. We just need to spend as much time with them as we can...we'll figure something out Hermione."
Hermione sniffed loudly, nodding. Her eyes burned but she didn't have the energy left to cry. She sagged into him, loosely wrapping her arms around his lower back.
Draco's face was buried into the side of her neck, his arms holding as if she was precious. It made her feel loved and safe. Hermione always knew she was safe with him, that he would be there for her. Without fail.
How long they stayed like that she didn't know, but she could finally breathe properly, for the first time since they had found out that something had happened at the Ministry.
Draco pulled away first, "we should get back. Mum and the others will wonder where we are."
Hermione nodded, reaching up to pat his cheek affectionately before turning and dismantling Draco's charms.
As she twisted the knob she shifted her eyes back to normal.
Hermione couldn't help the yawn that escaped her mouth, turning to the left as she covered her mouth. She felt Draco right behind her, and her eyes fell upon her Mother who was now coming out of Charlus's room. A bright smile lit up Dorea's face upon seeing them, but it was quickly replaced with confusion.
Hermione didn't know why until it was too late. She didn't know why until a hand gently touched her shoulder. By the time she knew, there was nothing she could do about it.
She would later curse herself for being so tired, for her senses being dulled by a night of drinking and exhaustion.
In that moment, she could do nothing as the sucking feeling burst from her bellybutton and the familiar pull of apparation washed over her. Then she was forcefully pulled from existence with a loud crack.
It didn't help that the hand on her shoulder felt kind, and it most certainly didn't help that she was almost positive she knew who it belonged to.
I felt like I should mention that I often respond to guest reviews on my tumblr, and I often submit your lovely reviews to our-little-gratitude-jar as well. I'm going to try and respond to all the reviews I can tonight, and you don't have to vote, but it would make me happy if you did.
It's honestly just an honour to have been nominated at all.
Love,
Indieblue xxx