Time Is The Longest Distance
A/N: Set in canon after HBP and told predominantly from Hermione's perspective, this story follows the trio on their journey to find and destroy the remaining horcruxes and eventually face The Dark Lord himself. When the situation becomes dire, Hermione has an opportunity to turn back time, for better… or worse?
Love, lust, loss, laughs, a little sex, a little death.
Pairings will run rampant in this story, including but not limited to: Hr/R, Hr/H, Hr/D, H/G, D/G, Lupin/Tonks, and Lupin/Sirius (in pensieve memories and recollections, of course).
Read and review, please. I sincerely appreciate feedback. Much gratitude to my two reviewers thus far, and those reading who have yet to review! Thanks!
Disclaimer: All characters and most concepts are the sole property of J. K. Rowling, although I am grateful to borrow them for the purposes of this fanfiction.
Ron struggled to sit upright. "'S'a bit o'fire whiskey," he slurred.
Horrified, Hermione crouched down beside him. Ron's robes were wrinkled and mussed and there were twigs and blades of grass in his hair. She reached over and began to pick them out. "Look at the state of you!" she said.
Ron looked up at her gratefully.
"Honestly, Ron! What were you thinking?"
"Didn't reckon it'd be that strong. 'Sides, I'm alright." He swayed a trifle and Hermione put her hand on his back to steady him. "I'm swell."
"Clearly," said Hermione. "Can you stand?"
"Sure," said Ron. "Been standing all m'life." He thrust his arms out in front of him, and with effort Hermione managed to help pull him to his feet.
"I wish you'd chosen another night for this," Hermione said as she draped Ron's arm around her shoulder for support.
"Had to try it at
least once."
"Yes, but you could have timed it better."
"This might be the last time. The end of all the times. And you know it."
"Hush," Hermione scolded. "Let's walk around a bit. You need the air."
"There's a lotta things to do," Ron continued as they walked. "Harry's m'best mate, and I'm in it now, and that's good. That's how it should be. But that doesn't change the fact that this could be it. The end."
"Don't talk that way," said Hermione.
"Why not?" Ron demanded, stopping suddenly. "Why not say it? S'true. You-Know-Who might snuff us all out. I might never see the Cannons win a cup. I might never play chess again, or finish Hogwarts, or do anything. I'll never get my apparating license, or… or…" Ron trailed off and looked at Hermione.
She was painfully aware of his arm still slung around her shoulders. His face was absurdly close to hers; she could have counted each of his freckles. Hermione felt a sudden panic and emptiness in her chest, as though she had just taken a sudden fall, but she knew she was standing still.
"Your hair," Ron said softly, reaching up to touch a loose strand by her face.
"Oh," Hermione stammered. "I know. It's silly."
"No," Ron said.
"You look like you did at the Yule Ball. D'you remember that
night?
"Yes," she whispered.
"I'd like to do that night over. If I could go back, I'd redo that night."
Hermione's heart was thundering in her chest. She felt the air crackling with possibility around her. After all this time, she had nearly resigned herself to the idea that Ron might never… But now, tonight, and the way he was looking at her, and the fire whiskey, allowing him to say the things he never said. Hermione dared to hope.
"You know, I should have asked you to the ball," Ron lamented. "I should've done it."
Hermione said nothing. She was unable to move or speak. It was as though her entire focus, her whole mind was willing Ron to lean just a little bit forward. Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me! she thought.
They were standing so closely now, that she could smell the sweet alcohol on his breathe. Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me.
"I've never told you," Ron began, struggling. "How I feel, I mean, you…" Ron screwed up his face in concentration. "I just, I want you to know that I…"
"Yes?" Hermione said so softly that she wasn't sure she had actually spoken at all.
"I…"
Ron lurched to the side and vomited violently onto the lawn.
Hermione stood, numb from shock, and stared at Ron in disbelief. After a moment she pulled herself together, sighed, and crouched down to rub his back until he was through.
Ginny saw him walking toward her long before he intended her to. Still, Draco walked confidently up to the youngest Weasley sibling and smirked.
"Hello, Firefly."
"Malfoy. Is that a wand in your pocket, or are you just glad to see me?"
"Tsk, tsk. Such tired invective. I've been disappointed twice, now, by you people. Please don't let me down again."
"Fine," said Ginny. "Get out of here or I'll hex you to Durmstang and back."
"As tempting as that sounds, I'm here to chat, not duel. But allow me a rain check, won't you?"
"If you stand here a moment longer, you won't need one," said Ginny, raising her wand.
"Easy there, Firefly, let's not get hasty."
He grabbed her around the waist and began to waltz her toward the dance floor.
"Get your hands off me!" Ginny hissed.
Draco dropped all pretense. "Listen," he said as they danced. "I don't particularly want to be here, but I haven't got much of a choice. As it is, I'd rather not have the entire Order breathing down my neck. I'm trying to help you blood-traitors! Show a little gratitude! We're dancing because I can pass for one of the Delacours if no one looks at me too closely, and since you've already hurt poor Potty's feelings by dancing with one of them earlier tonight, it's all without suspicion. Please keep your mouth shut and listen to what I've got to say. Granger didn't seem to take me seriously--"
"Hermione knows you're here?"
"Yes, we spoke. And as you can see she left me quite unscathed. However, I'm not sure if she'll pass my message along to Scarhead, so I figured a little reinforcement couldn't hurt." He paused for a moment. "You dance well despite your poverty. I can't imagine you've had much occasion to attend such functions."
"Bugger off, Malfoy."
Draco sighed and rolled his eyes toward the sky briefly. "It was a compliment, Weaslette."
"I've no use for your compliments, and very little patience for you in general, so either tell me what you're on about, or I will hex you."
"Snape wants a meeting with Potter."
Ginny laughed.
"Laugh all you want, Firefly, it's the truth."
"You're off your head."
"Do you want your boyfriend to die or not? Because if you two would like to live happily ever after in a dilapidated shack like this one, you'll tell Potter to take the meeting."
Ginny stared at Draco as they twirled round and round.
"What exactly are you saying?" she asked.
So much for a night of romance, Hermione thought to herself as she quietly closed the door to Ron's bedroom behind her as she left.
It had taken her the better part of half an hour to drag and coax him up the stairs and into his bed. He passed out immediately, and was snoring loudly when she left.
Hermione went into the room she was sharing with Ginny while she stayed at the Weasley's. She paused in front of the same mirror that she had gotten ready in front of just a few hours earlier.
The SleekEazy's potion was still working wonders on her hair, her dress robes were very pretty, she did, she thought to herself, look quite nice when all was said and done.
And what a waste.
She'd spent the evening bickering with Harry, being accosted by Draco, and tending to Ron as he vomited, which, slugs or no slugs, was disgusting.
Well, she could worry about all of it tomorrow. For the moment she was absolutely exhausted.
Hermione flopped herself down on her cot, not even bothering to change into her nightgown.
"We need to talk." Ginny Weasley was standing the doorway looking greatly displeased.
"I just got through talking to Malfoy," she said.
"Oh dear," said Hermione.