DISCLAIMER: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the sole property of J.K. Rowling. Canon characters and plots are not owned by me nor do I make any profit from this fic.
. . . but a girl can dream . . .
Beta: Shaya Lonnie, thank you so much!
A/N: I know it been a while, but sometimes life gets a little hectic. Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to review, it means so much to me.
Chapter 6
Potter House, The Hollow
24 June 1978
Hermione woke surrounded by warm, soft blankets; she didn't want to get up today. Classes could wait for one day couldn't they? Burrowing further into the warm cocoon of blankets, she couldn't help but feel like she was sleeping on a cloud. A dorm bed shouldn't be this comfortable. If they were, everyone would be late to class. Too soft, she thought with a heavy sigh as she dug her toes into the mattress. Too warm . . . too soft . . . too warm. . . a dorm bed wasn't this comfortable.
Hermione's eyes snapped open. She gazed up at the white duvet, inches from her face, and held her breath as she listened for any sounds to indicate she wasn't alone. She heard nothing but the happy chatter of early morning birds. Slowly lowering the blanket, she peered over the soft and fluffy billows, taking in a dark blue canopy she wasn't familiar with, before turning on her side to see pale blue walls, an intricately carved armoire, and a window overlooking an emerald green lawn.
Potter House.
The events in the Department of Mysteries surged through her consciousness along with her arrival at Charlus Potter's home. She had really hoped it had all been some terrible nightmare. It would seem she wasn't that lucky. Letting out an exasperated sigh, she pulled the blankets from her chin and flopped her arms down over the top, pinning them to her waist in a huff.
This was impossible. Well, no, not impossible, just irritatingly difficult. What she needed was to gather information and form a plan.
Kicking at the ridiculously fluffy blankets—honestly they could smother a person—she rolled to her side to get up from bed only to scream and dive back under the dangerously decadent duvet. Lying under the blanket, pulse beating as though she'd just run a marathon, she waited for her breath to slow before peering cautiously out at the room and the small house-elf that stood at the side of her bed, head propped up on the mattress by two long wrinkled hands with large bulbous eyes looking back at her in concern.
"Is Young Miss feeling well this morning?" the elf asked in a small squeaking voice.
"Uh . . . Y-yes, umm, thank you. Maisy, right?"
The elf smiled at the use of her name. "Oh yes, Miss. Would Young Miss like Maisy to be bringing her breakfast or would you be liking to eat with Master and Missus Healer?"
"Healer McKinnon is still here? How long did I sleep?" Hermione asked curiously as she pulled herself up into a sitting position in the overly large bed.
"Oh, Young Miss be sleeping all day and night. Missus Healer just come this morning and be checking up on Young Miss before you wakes. Young Miss be wanting to go to the Breakfast Room?"
"Yes, I think I'd like that, Maisy. And please, call me Hermione." She swung her bare legs over the side of the bed to stand and realised she wore only her bra and knickers. "Maisy, do you know what Healer McKinnon did with my robes yesterday?"
"She be vanishing the ugly robes Miss Herminy. Master Potter be sending Maisy straight out to get Young Miss new robes and Muggle clothes as well. They all be hanging in the armoire, Miss Herminy."
Hermione frowned as she rose to go to the armoire. She wished Charlus hadn't made a fuss, but if she was stuck here in this time, she really couldn't look a gift horse in the mouth seeing as she had no money of her own and, she noted with unease, she wasn't aware of what had happened to her wand.
She gasped upon opening the armoire doors. It was filled from side to side with a variety of clothing, both Muggle and Wizarding just as Maisy had said. There were several drawers filled with undergarments and stockings, and along the bottom laid several pairs of shoes, from boots and trainers to flats and her familiar Mary Janes. "This is all too much. I . . . thank you, Maisy, this is wonderful."
The house-elf beamed up at Hermione happily as she selected a set of light blue robes and some undergarments from the armoire before directing her to an adjoining bath. "Will you be wanting Maisy to bring you to the Breakfast Room when you is done, Miss?"
"Is it difficult to find?" Hermione asked as she tried to pull a brush she'd found on the bathroom's vanity through her hopelessly tangled hair.
"No, Miss. You takes a left at the bottom of the stairs, and it be the last door on the left," Maisy told her with an anxious glance at the brush that now looked thoroughly stuck in the young witch's hair. "Would you be allowing Maisy to assist you, Miss?"
Hermione let her arms drop heavily to her sides. "It's not this bad if I braid it at night," she said with a huff before nodding reluctantly at the elf who seemed eager to help. After a moment, Hermione felt a slight tingle caressing her scalp and watched in the mirror as her hair gently unwound from its tangled mess. Before she knew it, she stood in front of the mirror with a mane of knot-free—though still highly frizzy—hair. She gave the small elf a grateful smile. "Elf Magic is remarkable, but nothing can fully tame the beast."
Once Hermione had showered and dressed, she ventured through the Potter's home in search of the Breakfast Room and Mr. Potter himself.
The halls of the home were wide and lined with an enchanted landscape mural; beautiful sweeping fields with grasses gently swaying in a non-existent breeze. She swore she could hear the streams babbling over rocks as the water flowed past a wandering pegasus and flocks of hippogriffs grazing in the shade of a great oak. It gave the feeling of walking through a magical countryside rather than an old manor. As she breathed deeply, she could almost smell the wildflowers; it was wonderfully soothing.
Descending a grand staircase, Hermione found herself in a much more formal living space with dark panelled walls and large framed portraits of what, she assumed, were Potter ancestors. The portraits were unsurprisingly enchanted as well. While many eyed her curiously as she passed, others smiled warmly and wished her a good day.
As she drifted down the hall, she heard low voices coming from what she was told would be the Breakfast Room. She slowed as she neared an open door at the end of the long hall, catching bits of conversation coming from within.
". . . Michael and Ben have spent the last few days increasing our wards. I can feel it, Charlus, things are getting worse. What The Prophet is reporting just doesn't match the trauma cases I've been seeing at St. Mungo's. They are hiding things."
"They've never been reliable, Marley, you know that. Still though . . . Albus hasn't said anything?"
Hermione's ears perked at the use of her headmaster's name and she held her breath, silently urging them to continue.
"Just the same old spiel, 'dark times are upon us, it's our duty to stand up for the greater good.' We have guard duties and make reports, but nothing substantial has been done for months. We have a hard enough time finding a place to meet safely."
So, the Order is already formed at this point. Hermione wondered if they'd take issue with her age in this time as well. If she was truly trapped here, perhaps she could be of use.
"Yes, I heard. Fires, they said?" she heard Charlus ask.
"Fiendfyre. Everything within a hundred yards burnt clean to the ground and nothing left but ash. It wasn't during a meeting, thank Merlin, but still, to know the locations? I . . . there have been whispers, Charlus. People are starting to talk; they think we might—"
Whatever she had been about to say was lost to Hermione as Maisy popped into the doorway of the room.
"Oh good, Missy Herminy be finding the way fine." The little elf smiled as she opened the door wide to allow Hermione access. "Why is you standing out in the hall, Miss? Maisy makes a lovely breakfast for yous to enjoy."
Hermione felt a blush creep into her cheeks as she entered into the now quiet room, both occupants watching as she made her way to join them at a small round table.
A tiny smirk tilted up the corner of Charlus' wide mouth as he watched the young witch settle into an open chair and reach for a slice of toast. "How are you feeling this morning, Hummingbird?"
Hermione's hand froze, momentarily hovering over the warm toast before lifting a slice from the rack. "I . . . I'm feeling quite well rested, thank you, sir."
"Oh, please call me Charlus," he addressed her warmly as he slid a dish of marmalade closer to her plate. "I hope you found the room to your liking?"
"Oh, yes, thank you. Though, I wish you hadn't asked Maisy to attend to me and you really shouldn't have gone through all the trouble . . . that is to say . . . I-I'm grateful, truly most grateful, as I can't begin to imagine what I would have done if you hadn't taken me in. I suppose I could have tried to go to Hogwarts . . . but I can't Apparate and I haven't got a broom, not that I could fly it even if I did," she muttered as she nervously tore at her toast. "I don't even have a wand," she admitted just as her stomach let out an embarrassing growl. She glanced down at the remains of her toast and saw nothing more than a pile of crumbs. Her rumbling stomach reminding her that it hadn't gotten a proper meal since lunch two days before, or eighteen years into the future, as it now stood.
Charlus smiled in amusement as he helpfully pushed the rack of toast towards her. "Don't worry about your wand, it is in my office safe and sound when you are ready. As for Maisy, she has been very eager to receive you; it has been a long while since we had curious young minds lurking around the place to look after."
Hermione felt her cheeks blossom with colour once more at the not-so-subtle reminder of her earlier snooping. "I'm very sorry for m-my spying, sir. I—"
"Nonsense. I'll hear nothing of it. You certainly aren't the first curious child to roam these halls, and I would hope you aren't the last either. I just have to brush up on my Silencing Spells so as not to tempt you, won't I?"
"I'm not a child," Hermione mumbled, sounding distinctly childish to her own ears.
Marlene smiled softly at her. "No, you aren't, and I think we all recognise that, dear. It just . . . well . . ." She glanced nervously down at the Daily Prophet by her plate for a moment before appearing to shake a thought from her head. "Nevermind. You're quite right aren't you? Now then, I took the liberty of running a few scans while you were sleeping and everything looks just as I had hoped. I wouldn't use any strong spells or strain yourself physically for another day as to give that rib a chance to set up and no Apparating. Other than that, I give you a clean bill of health."
"Well," the Healer stood from her spot at the table with a warm smile, "St. Mungo's awaits. Hermione, I don't have a working Floo but if you have need, I'm just an owl away." She turned from the table pausing to place a hand softly on Charlus' shoulder. "Thank you for the conversation and lovely breakfast. I hope to hear from you soon. No more of this keeping to yourself nonsense," she said with a light squeeze of his shoulder before leaving the room.
An awkward silence fell over the remaining occupants after the departure of Healer McKinnon, disturbed only by the occasional clinking of china and scrapping of dinnerware. The distant tick of a grandfather clock seemed to resonate within Hermione's head; a steady strum of whispered reminders that this was not her time, this was not where she belonged, and nothing good could come of this.
The scraping of a chair over wood pulled Hermione from her thoughts as Charlus stood, brushing crumbs from his trousers before reaching a hand out toward her.
"Would you care to join me on a morning stroll through the gardens? It is a lovely day and I'm sure you'd like to familiarise yourself with your new home."
She stared at the proffered hand for a moment before placing her palm in his and rising from her seat. "I'm grateful to you Mr. Potter—"
"Charlus," he insisted before placing her hand in the crook of his arm and guiding her out a pair of french doors that lead into a beautifully fragrant rose garden.
She bit her lip awkwardly as she tried to find the right words to voice her gratitude to this man. He hardly knew a thing about Hermione, yet was willing to not only feed and clothe her but was also welcoming her into his home. "I'm grateful to you, Charlus for all the hospitality you've shown me but . . . well, I . . ."
"Go on, darling. I won't bite," Charlus urged her with a warm smile.
"Well, it's just that you don't really know me and with times as they are, are you . . . certain you want me to live with you?"
"Are you a threat?" he asked. "Do you wish to do harm to my family or myself?"
"No!" she all but shouted at him. "No, of course not. I-I'd never even . . . I couldn't— wouldn't—never, sir."
"Well then you are welcome in my home, and if you wish it, I shall take you on as my ward."
Hermione grinned brightly as tears glistened in her eyes, "I-I can't thank you enough, I don't know what . . . if it weren't for all you've done, I don't know where I'd be right now."
Charlus gave the hand that rested on his arm a reassuring squeeze as he lead her on to an intersecting path that brought them into a section of garden surrounded by various flowering arbours.
"Yes, well you're not the first lost soul that my wife and I have taken in. She had quite the fondness for strays." He chortled warmly at the memory.
"Your wife?"
"Hmm . . . Oh, yes, Euphemia," Charlus said wistfully as he led Hermione through a passage of soft pink roses and climbing vines of deep purple clematis into another section of garden.
"She hated that name," he laughed. "Always insisted we call her by her middle name, Dorea."
Charlus wore a sad distant smile as they continued through beautifully sculpted topiaries and across the emerald lawn. They made their way silently to an old gazebo that sat on a rise in the rolling green lawn, watching as the morning sun rose in the distance, its early rays glistening on the thatched and slated roofs of the old village below.
"It's how we came together," Charlus reminisced softly as he gazed off into the distance, "you see, she was a Slytherin and I, a mighty Gryffindor." He puffed up his chest comically for a moment before his ageing shoulders slumped back down upon heavy exhale. "If it hadn't been for our equal dislike in our names . . . well, we might have never found common ground in the first place."
Hermione smiled softly watching his face transform as he spoke of his wife, his tired hazel eyes took on a youthful gleam as he relived cherished memories.
"Goodness, dear, forgive an old man," he said, visually shaking himself from wherever his memories had wandered. "I seem to have a habit of drifting off. It's been a very long time since I told anyone that story." He laughed faintly as he dabbed at the corner of his eye with his shirt sleeve.
Hermione gently squeezed his forearm where her hand still lay. "I'm honoured you'd share it with me. I think it's incredibly sweet."
"Yes, well, youth is sweet, darling Hummingbird; and wasted on the young."
"Why do you say that?" she asked curiously.
"Well," Charlus began, "most waste away their youth on petty bicker—"
"No, not that. Hummingbird. Why do you call me that?"
"Oh, well . . . tell me, what do you know of the Hummingbird?"
Hermione chewed at her bottom lip for a moment as she tried to recall details of the tiny creature, before sighing in exasperation. "Not terribly much I'm afraid. I know they're small, fast, and . . . well, that's all really."
"Ha, don't pout dear girl, I think that's all most could relay of the tiny avian," he reassured her with a pat on the hand as he moved to sit at a nearby bench. "A hummingbird is capable of the most amazing feats. Despite their small size, they can travel great distances or fly backwards. They represent joy, love, and happiness. Hummingbirds teach us to go beyond time and to see that what happened in the past and what may happen in the future is not nearly as important as what is occurring now."
"That's lovely. D-do you . . . think it's true . . . the part about what may happen not being as important as the here and now?"
"The question, dear is, do you? I know the events that brought you here to this time must have been very harrowing, but now that you are here, for the foreseeable future, it seems you'll have a lot of decisions to make."
"Decisions?"
"Do you live each moment in a panicked state, waiting for that one slip of the tongue that may never come . . . or do you embrace the knowledge that it has all happened before and allow yourself to live your life here in this time with a clear mind and a heart full of happiness instead of doubt and sorrow?"
Hermione contemplated his words carefully as she leaned against a pillar of the gazebo watching the early morning rays sparkle off the dew covered lawn before taking in a deep breath. "I think I'd like to live with a clear mind, to be . . . to be happy . . . here," she said, determined to be strong as she found her footing in this familiar, yet achingly different, world.
Charlus smiled warmly at her before nodding soundly. "And that, my darling, is why you are a Hummingbird."
A/N 2.0- I hope you all enjoyed that, don't be afraid to let me know your thoughts!