Summary: Hermione goes back to the Final Battle to save the one person who she believes shouldn't have been allowed to die, even knowing that she'll be ripping herself from every other timeline. AU from beginning of epilogue on.
Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own these characters. The epilogue wouldn't have been in Book 7 if I did.
A/N: Because I meant to have Chapter 4 up a week ago, I bring you two chapters in a day!
I'll Give You All My Futures
Chapter 5: Preparations
"Indifference and neglect often do much more damage than outright dislike."
– Albus Dumbledore
March, 2003
Two days after Hermione had found Ron trying to spy through Harry, Hermione had set up a small Potions lab in her kitchen. The potions had been simmering for almost six hours now, carefully spaced approximately thirty minutes apart so she would be able to bottle one cauldron before the next finished.
Her sleeves she had been pushed back above her elbows and her hair had been firmly brushed into submission before firmly braided. Though it was still wild at times, the length that she had added to it since the war was slowly but surely weighing down the outrageous tendency towards bushiness. The braid could almost touch the bottom of her waist now.
Two minutes to go, she thought as she readied the bottles. A loud crash, followed by a chime, made Hermione smirk. A quick anti-Apparition ward. She knew that it would come in handy. Only one person would have the nerve to Apparate into her flat. Carefully, she poured out the first cauldron into the first two bottles as she heard the steps coming towards her door followed by the sound of knocking. Carefully stoppering the bottles, she set the cauldron down. Another knock at the door made her sigh. He wasn't giving up. Crossing her apartment, she opened the door.
"What do you want Ron?" she asked, leaning her body against the door jam.
"I-" he began, holding out a bouquet of flowers, before he wrinkled his nose. "Hermione it smells like a hospital in there."
"Wait! Wait, that's not what I meant to say," he said hastily as she began closing the door on him.
"Then what Ron? I don't have time for this," she said, glad that she could hold onto some of the anger from the other day.
Ron looked flustered, shifting weight from one foot to the other as he began. "You know I'm not good at this. I- look, I'm sorry Hermione. It's just, you've got me going crazy. I just don't know what I'm doing or where I'm going. No, that's not what I meant. I-"
Hermione sighed and opened the door, saying, "Come in Ron."
Once the door had fully closed, she pulled her wand free from her pocket, saying, "Acciovase."
Hermione took the flowers from him and with a murmured Aguamenti, filled the vase with water. She took her time arranging them as he spoke.
"Hermione, I want us to be together. Really together. And I know that we are now, but somehow I feel like you're always holding out on me like somehow you're with me, just not," Ron said. She could feel his eyes on her, but she was determined not to look up as she arranged the flowers. "And I know. Really. If I lost Mum."
"No," Hermione said, her head snapping up as her stomach clenched painfully. "I am not. Not. Talking about them Ron."
A tiny whistle from the kitchen made her shake her head and go to pour out the second batch. Ron followed her.
"Maybe we have to talk about them Hermione. Dammit, I'm not good at this," he said, sounding frustrated.
"Then stop trying to be, Ron," she hissed tightly, containing her anger as she carefully poured the cauldron's potion into bottles. "Let it go."
"But then I'll let you go!" he cried. "I feel like if I don't do something, you're going to go. I don't know how, and I have to stop you before you're gone."
Guilt twisted Hermione's stomach as she stoppered the last bottle. She leaned forward, gripping the edge of the table as the anger leeched out of her. Finally, she made herself look at him.
Ron was standing in the doorway with such a look of anguish on his face that her gut twisted again. How could she leave him like this? If Lovegood was right, there might be countless Rons who would never see her again, she would disappear, and only one Ron that would. And even that one Ron would have to know that she had gone back to save Snape, and she knew to him, venerated hero or not, too much of Ron still thought he had been a git. But what could she say?
"What do you want me to say Ron?" she said, hating that she sounded so defeated. How had it get gotten this way between them?
"I want you to say that you'll stay," he said, advancing. "I want you to tell me to move in with you. I want you."
"I can't say that right now Ron, I'm sorry," she all but whispered.
"Which part?"
His tone made her look up. The hurt was almost completely gone. Anger had completely replaced it. His face and neck were flushed red, but his lips were tight and white.
"Forget it, forget I said it," he hissed before he turned and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
Hermione flinched and tears started flowing down her face. The chime for the third cauldron being finished jolted her out of it. Wiping the tears on her sleeve, she sniffed. Then she poured.
"Twenty-five thousand galleons? Are you out of your mind?" Hermione gaped at the tall man behind the counter. She honestly had to wonder if it was a tendency of those who were frequently around potions ingredients to also have rather pale skin. He had done well for himself here over the years though, considering how the quality of his robes had improved over the years she'd shopped here.
The clerk, Mr. Ernet, at Slug & Jiggers was now looking at her like she was out of her mind. It was the only shop that she had found in the country to even make her an offer though, so she had to have at least tried for the easy way of doing this. It had taken her forever, and she had finally gotten a hit on her searches. They had sent an owl to her yesterday that they had a vial in stock, recently in, if the miss would like to please see for herself.
"Phoenix tears are not normal potion ingredients, Miss Granger," he began slowly, sounding as if he was about to go into a lecture.
"Yes, yes, I know," Hermione said, dismissing his words with a wave of her hand. The price had caught her off guard though.
Phoenix tears didn't have a long shelf life, first thing. Any attempt to configure a preservative to mix with the tears had the same result as allowing them to lose their healing properties over time. They also weren't easy to procure. Unlike many potions ingredients that came from magical creatures, they could not be harvested from a dead phoenix. They also had to be given willingly, because the birds could not be coerced to either heal a nearby victim or cry on command. There also seemed to be a limit on how many tears a phoenix could produce at any one point in time. But still! She wouldn't make that much in a year. Hell, two years! She sighed in disgust as she heard a chuckle from behind the counter.
"You don't sound as they normally do though Miss Granger," he said with a smile.
"How do they usually sound then?" Hermione asked as she handed over her other list of ingredients.
His face lost the humor that he had held as he said, "They normally sound desperate. You- You don't sound desperate. You simply sound determined to find another way."
Hermione chuckled as she gestured to her list.
"It is the second time that I've seen you in as many days though," the clerk said, busying about the shop as he prepared her the items from her list, setting a brown stoppered bottle onto the counter with another vial with a blue powdered substance. "I'd guess you were working for St. Mungo's or another hospital in the area. Or going to battle." He finished, turning to raise an eyebrow at her from where he stood on the ladder behind the front desk.
Hermione only gave him an answering smirk, but didn't reply. He chuckled before turning back and scooping three spoons of pulverised iron into a bag. He also grabbed a tall jar on his way down. Hermione handed over her own flask for him, for which he nodded to her in thanks, as he poured salamander blood into the funnel which he placed inside the flask.
"Of course," he said, stoppering the remaining containers and tallying up her purchase. "It isn't my business to know what you will be doing with these goods. However, I feel that we've come to a working relationship so far between us, yes?"
Hermione nodded once, "I would say so, yes, Mr. Ernet."
"Good, then please, call me Nigel," Nigel said with a smile. "That will be 6 Galleons and 10 Sickles."
"Nigel then," Hermione said as she fished the money from her purse. "Please call me Hermione."
"Very well," Nigel said, handing over her purchases and his face became serious. "I'm sure you won't need it but, good luck Hermione."
The next stop was fairly simple. It was also something that she had been putting off for quite some time. Swallowing hard, Hermione pushed the door open to Flourish and Blotts. The store normally filled her with such ease and comfort. It was the place that she would always stop and visit, even when she knew that she wasn't going to purchase anything. Sad though it might have been, she did love the smell of books. Moving towards the wizardographies section, she didn't have to look far to see the books she wanted. Seeing his face scowling out from the cover of Snape: Scoundrel or Saint? made her grimace. She knew why she had been avoided that particular book. Frankly, it infuriated her to no end. Maybe even more so than the biography the infuriating woman had written about Harry later, of which three quarters had been absolute rubbish.
Feeling dirty, Hermione picked up the book, and flipped it over. There, in all her disgusting glory, was the author. Rita Skeeter, the woman that Hermione detested with a passion. Unfortunately, shortly after the war, Hermione had lost her power over her.
After the rumors of a biography on Harry began to circulate she had practically broken the woman's door down. Hermione had almost been hauled off to court after the things that she had shouted but, eventually, she had ended up going through with her original threat and reported the detestable, sneaky, horrid, amoral woman to the Ministry as an unregistered Animagus.
Ms. Skeeter was now registered. She had had to pay several hefty fines (calculated on the years that she had been unregistered), but was now free to write all of the rubbish she wanted, including Harry Potter's biography, along with Snape's.
A thinner volume, Hidden Hero, sat next to the others. It had been published some years later by Eldred Worple, with a foreword written by Harry Potter. Though Hermione had helped Harry write and edit the foreword she had stopped short of actually reading the contents of either book. The idea for the book had actually been Harry's, and the idea to include Worple had been Hermione's. Subtle manipulations, as well as Harry dangling the possibility of an authorized biography, of course had Worple on their side.
Hidden Hero had actually sold remarkably well within the intellectual community. Harry had confessed that he hadn't actually included many of the details that he could have, which would have made it sell more. He had made sure that he had the final word on most of his personal history. For all that Harry had wanted to clear Snape's name, as well as turn the public's opinion, most of the book was concerned with most of the book was concerned with setting the record and timeline straight as far as the Order of the Phoenix and the Second Wizarding War were concerned. Harry's fame had helped sell it, Hermione knew. It also helped put a dent in Skeeter's profits which she liked of course. But she could never bring herself to read either.
Swallowing, she turned this little book over as well. Both Harry and Worple were pictured on the back- Harry decked in his Auror's robes and looking quite grim, Worple looked all-together pleased with himself though, thankfully, not grinning as obscenely as Lockhart used to.
Stacking both books in her arms, Hermione hated that her stomach was turning slightly with butterflies as she chatted with the girl she bought them from. Everyone here had known her on a first name basis since her third year. Shrinking the books so she could tuck them into her pocket, she sighed. If Ron and Harry could see her now! Scared to read a book. She laughed at herself. She was being ridiculous and she knew it. Picking up her bag of potions ingredients, unfortunately not all of them could be shrunken without the possibility of damaging their properties. It just wasn't right to mix magic with certain ingredients.
When she reached her flat though, she still couldn't bring herself to read the books. She decided to just dump them into the bag with her other things. She had a plan now, that was certain. It all hinged on Pye's lecture next month, and if she could manage to get into Harry's good graces enough to get access to some of the Auror office's property. She'd only really need to borrow one for a day, technically, if all went well. Thinking back, through all the times of trouble during her school years though... she knew things did not always go as planned.