I need time.

In the diffused light of the café, the Australian auror studied her closely. "You're certain? I heard you Poms had a bit of trouble with these." He tapped the leather-bound case, embossed with an elaborate "T."

Hermione breathed deeply and nodded. Coffee might make her jittery, but the smell of roasted beans and vanilla made her relax. "I have a letter of approval by Minerva McGonagall—"

The auror broke into a grin. "Oh, I know Minerva. We were cobbers, way back. Student exchange program. We used to get turped up on Friday nights, have a laugh."

Hermione nodded, wishing once again that she'd studied Australian slang before arriving. She'd thought she would only be here for a day or two. "I know this is a bit sudden, but a spell I cast needs to be reversed, and the usual methods—"

The auror held up his hand. "Say no more. If Minerva approves, so do I." He slid the leather-bound case across the table. "Contact me once you're finished, and say hello to Minerva for me."

Hermione stayed to finish her coffee after the auror left, studying the case. Carefully, with both hands, she cracked it open.

It looked a bit different than the ones in the Department of Mysteries. More copper than gold. The sand in the hourglass flowed up and down, always shifting. Slightly different properties, of course. No time limit on how long she could stay in the past. No chance of meeting your previous self. Just as well – she didn't need the clutter of other Hermionies running about.

She hoped Professor McGonagall would forgive her the slight fib. She did need to reverse a spell. Or reverse a reversal of a spell. What was it about time-turners that made simple things feel so complicated?

The sunlight in Sydney was bright after the relative dimness of the café. The minty scent of eucalyptus reminded her of childhood afternoons spent in her parents' office, dutifully handing out little gift bags of toothpaste and brushes to the patients. She pulled her jacket tighter against the crisp breeze. Early springtime here, even though summer was ending back home.

Home. She breathed in, tasting the eucalyptus, and told herself that the office was still waiting for her, and her parents. They would find their way back there. She just needed to find the right time.

A copse of Acacias near the beach in Wollongong kept her apparating hidden from Muggle eyes. Even though she couldn't see the beach, the salty seawater air felt bright and clean. She walked along the road until she reached an unassuming one-story with potted flowers in the front garden. She attached the time turner to a chain around her neck, and held it up until it caught the sunlight. Everything was going to be fine now.

"I don't think you're being reasonable," Hermione told her parents.

Her mum tutted. "I don't see what's unreasonable about it."

"I found another dentist willing to take over your office temporarily. Everything is set up for your return. You'll barely know you've been gone."

"That's all very well and good," her dad said, "but we're quite happy here. Settled in. I see no reason to uproot ourselves."

"But…" She was stymied. Again. Before, it had been the first time she'd seen her parents since the war, the final battle with Voldemort. She'd been emotional. She'd barely been able to chant the spell to reverse the effects on her parents' memory. They'd been stunned, and they'd nodded as she'd explained. Maybe it hadn't been the right way to talk about going back to England.

She'd been reasonable this time. Explained everything calmly. There had still been tears, but she'd kept herself together, for the most part.

"Don't you think Australia is nice?" Her mum asked. "We quite like Wollongong. It's got a homey feel, don't you think?"

"It's very nice," Hermione forced herself to say. "But what about your real home, back in England?"

Her dad's jovial smile flickered for an instant. "Well, I don't see what the rush is. Why don't you stay for a while? You might like it. We're just about to head to the shop and get something for dinner. We'll set the table in the garden."

After some polite refusals, Hermione stood in front of the house and watched her parents' car drive off. Clearly, she'd done something wrong. As much has she'd studied, as confident as she'd been about the spell, she must have cast it wrong.

I need time.

She stared down at the time turner and poised it carefully between her fingers. Just a few hours before the last time she reversed the spell. Erase all that came after. Try again. She'd get it right.

"If you come back to England with me, I'll make sure all your things from Australia are shipped to you." She could ask for an advance from her new job at the Ministry. "No need to worry about anything, or to box anything up. I'll take care of it."

Her dad patted her on the shoulder. "We wouldn't want to put you out like that."

"It's no problem at all. I could even pay for your tickets home." That would be pushing the advance and her savings a bit, but she could manage.

"Oh, we certainly couldn't ask you to do that," her mum said. "We've got the money if we decide to go back for a visit. We've been managing a coffee shop here in town."

"A…coffee shop?" Hermione asked faintly.

"Oh yes, it's quite lovely," her mum said. "We hadn't realized how much Australians love their coffee, but it's quite the thing. We double as a gathering place for the tourists, before they go out on a boat. Your father is getting his own boat into shape."

Her dad huffed proudly. "Going to be a beauty, once I finish her up. I'll be able to carry a dozen tourists on it."

"But that's not what you do." She felt her voice rising uncontrollably. "You're dentists, for goodness' sake!"

By the hour's end, she'd had to step outside, into their back garden. She took a deep breath. And then she pulled out the time turner.

Turn and turn and turn. She had to keep going back, further and further. And still, her parents, with their surprised looks as they came out of the spell, their thoughtful silence as she explained what had happened, what would happen. And their implacable smiles as they explained that they wouldn't be going anywhere, thank you very much.

And now, a full day before her past self would arrive in Australia, she sat in her parents' beige and blue living room and tried, for the first time and the tenth time, to lay out the reasons why they didn't need to stay here, why they should return home. She found she couldn't say the words.

She'd been outmaneuvered before she'd made a move, like playing chess with Ron. Chess that Ron no longer played. He'd been taught by Fred, and now Ron couldn't bear to look at a board. The chessboard sat unused in a closet at the Burrow now, gathering dust. That chessboard should have been one thing that was untouched by the war. Black and white, fifty-three centimeters squared. One little space that Ron could still have, same as it was before. Was that so much to ask?

Ron had looked so bewildered after Fred's funeral. As if he didn't understand how time could move forward without Fred in it. As if he didn't know where life was heading.

She'd thought that was her job. To get life back on track. I've put in a good word for you at the Ministry, Ron, you really should apply…This weekend would be a good time to look at flats in London, don't you think? And Ron nodding numbly, stuck in place, refusing to be unstuck. Until he'd finally pulled away, veered off from her on their walk on Brighton Beach to head home alone. I need time, he'd said.

But how much time? It was the question she couldn't ask, while she stared out at the unending sea, and contemplated going back to her silent childhood home.

"Hermione, dear." Her mum patted her on the back. She looked worried. Hermione realized she hadn't spoken for several minutes. They asked her about tea, about a trip into town, but she could only shake her head.

She touched the lump of the time turner under her cardigan. How much further back could she go? Turn and turn and turn again, weeks, months? Back before the funeral, before Fred died, before the war, before she made her parents forget her?

It was only one year. She could spin, and spin, and spin, all the way back. One little change, it may not affect anything else. It may not affect whether they won the war or not. It may not affect whether her parents lived or died. Probably.

A time turner and her own problem solving abilities. Combined, it should be a match for anything. All the time in the world to fix things. But she wasn't the one who needed time.

She stilled her hands, pulling them away from the time turner and clasping them firmly in her lap. Facing her parents, she said quietly, "You're upset with me, aren't you?"

There was a silence, before her father protested. "No, of course not. We could never stay angry with you."

Bu the silence told her that her instincts were right. She'd upended their lives. And now she appeared out of the blue and asked them to pack it all in and go back to England, as if nothing had happened. She hadn't given them a chance to take it all in, to even be aware of how upset they were. She hadn't given them time.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I made the decision because I thought it was the best solution to keeping you safe. But you should have had the chance to say no."

"Oh, darling," Her mum said. "We really do enjoy being in Australia. We had this feeling that we'd been worried for such a long time, and the fresh air did us good. Even now that we know…" Her smile faltered, and she looked lost.

Her parents had always been kind, always been gentle. They wanted her to be happy. They couldn't admit how they felt, couldn't say what was behind their worried eyes. That they were having trouble forgiving her.

Be brave. You fought in a war. You can face this.

Because she wanted to move, wanted to fight, wanted to go back and back and back until she fixed this. But that wasn't going to work. Not here, and not with Ron. Forgiveness and healing were things that you only found going forward.

She'd always wanted to be ahead of everyone, always ready with an answer. Use every moment of time with maximum efficiency. But now she needed to let time tick out, let others take the time they needed. Give them time.

She looked at her parents and smiled. "I need to go to Sydney. Return something I borrowed. But when I get back, perhaps we could take a walk along the beach?"

Her mum smiled and took her hand. "I think we can find the time."


Written for the [Prompt Challenge] Round 21: January 2021 on r/FanFiction. Prompt: gen, non-linear narrative.