I dont own any of the Harry Potter characters
--
He didn't know how long they lay there, their mouths tentatively exploring each other, sending tingles of delight and lust up his spine, reaching every extremity of his body and warming his cold fingers. Through the fabric of her dress he could feel her body heat, a feeling that was so delightfully reassuring in itself that he found it difficult to believe he had felt so apprehensive about touching her. Her fingers wound into his hair, pulling him gently closer in a deeper kiss that sent his heart pounding. He might have questioned what he was doing, he might even have pulled away from her, had the thought of that pathetic pubescent boy lounging all over her not intervened. If it was a choice between himself and that inexperienced and fumbling buffoon, he assured himself that he was the best choice.
"You smell good," he whispered against her lips, eyes still half-closed as he spoke, mouth returning to hers instantly.
"You taste good," she said back, running a hand down his neck and trailing her fingertips over his skin. The hairs stood on end and he let out a rasping breath, meeting her eyes and allowing his own hand to trace her cheek.
"You're beautiful," he said, with such sincerity that she was lost for words. "What on earth are you doing letting an old man like me even touch you?"
Hermione opened her mouth, then closed it again, blushing red. Instead of answering, she pressed her mouth lightly to his again, chastely brushing lips and showing in no uncertain terms that she did not, by any means, mind that he was thirty-something years old.
"If this makes you uncomfortable..."
"Shut up." Hermione said softly. "It doesn't. So stop. If I felt uncomfortable we wouldn't be out here." She shivered slightly, feeling the brisk evening wind on her skin.
"You're cold." Godric said. It was meant to come out as a question, and yet it sounded to him that he had said it in amazement. She giggled and nodded slightly. Without considering it, he rolled onto his back, pulling her against his side and wrapping both arms around her.
"Better?" He asked. She looked slightly surprised, but nodded up at him shyly. She kept her face deliberately away from his chest, not wanting to rest it on him and push her luck.
"What are you doing?" He said bluntly.
"I'm relaxing," she replied, though the grimace on her face told a very different story.
"You're sitting there as though you have a deformity." Godric said. He moved a hand to the back of her head and pushed it lightly onto his chest. "There." He smiled. "Now you can tell me if my heart stops working."
Hermione giggled and shifted herself slightly closer, her hand running lightly over the soft fabric that covered his chest. Hesitantly, Godric tilted her head up, pressing his lips to hers once more. She kissed him back gently, tongue tracing his lips as the calming sound of water filled her ears.
"Let's go inside," Godric said quietly, "it's getting cold.. and dark... and damp..."
Hermione smiled, pulling away slowly and letting him help her to her feet. The chill of the wind hit her again at the loss of his body heat, but once again he pulled her to his side, arm around her shoulders as they walked back towards the castle.
--
Harry sat in Gryffindor tower, watching the two small figures lie beside eachother on the grass, with a mixture of mild curiousity and violent rage. He could have recognized Hermione from miles away from the way she walked, as though she had just put down a bag containing hundreds of bricks. And there was no mistaking that dress either. The arrival of such a strange man, and one who just happened to know the password to Dumbledore's office, was more disconcerting than Ron's previous announcement that he would turn gay if Luna Lovegood did not marry him. As the two held hands and embraced, Harry felt the compelling need to alert Dumbledore to the mans presence - only an hour ago Hermione had acted so coldly towards the man that she might have cut off his manhood given half the chance. Yet now they walked and embraced like a couple... Wonderings of whether the man had somehow slipped Hermione a love potion crossed Harry's mind, but he knew Hermione was much less stupid than that.
"Harry, have you done this Transfiguration essay?"
"It's in my trunk," Harry called back, listening to Ron as he scrambled to go up the spiral staircase.
"Thanks!" Ron called.
"No problem." Standing up, Harry approached the portrait hole and headed for the Entrance Hall.
"Where do you think you're going at this hour?" The fat lady scolded him.
Harry rolled his eyes. "Nowhere," he said, and walked on.
--
Hermione let her arm slide around Godric's back, absently tracing a pattern over the fabric. As he rested his head on hers, his hand gripping her spare one, they heard hurried footsteps approaching. Godric looked around for a place to hide, finding only a broom cupboard, but even as he went to enter it, he heard the angry outcry of the strange boy from Dumbledore's office.
"What have you done to her?" Harry said, green eyes flashing with unsupressed rage.
Godric stared blanky. "I..."
"Harry, he hasn't done anything!"
"He's drugged you!" Harry said, wand pointed at Godric in a firm hand. "I saw the two of you, he's given you a lust potion or something. You've only just met him! I knew I shouldn't have left you alone with him.You've never met the guy before and you're all over him! He's a..."
"HARRY!" Hermione snapped. "I have met him before, and if you'll come to Dumbledore's office, then I'm sure he'll help me explain..."
"I'm not letting him near Dumbledore! He's one of Voldemort's spies, he has to be!"
Hermione hissed. "You're beginning to sound like Ron, jumping to all these conclusions."
At this, Harry stopped, jaw gaping. "I am not like Ron!"
Hermione quirked an eyebrow, then looked at Godric. "Come on. Dumbledore should still be up."
Godric glanced from Harry to Hermione, then shrugged and placed his hand in hers as a silent act of defiance against the younger mans accusations.
--
Albus sat at his desk, his half-moon spectacles low on his nose as he bent over to write his latest advisory letter to the Minister for Magic. His hand formed each letter with perfected precision, and even when there was a brisk, unexpected knock on the door it did not falter in its movement.
"Come in," he called, dotting the full stop of his sentence and replaced the quill in its inkwell, looking up to see who his visitors were.
"Ahh, Miss Granger, Godric! How wonderful to..." he trailed off as Harry Potter walked in, eyes flashing angrily as he demanded an explanation.
"Professor! I don't know who he is but he's done something to her! Look at her!"
Albus looked, and admittedly, the sight of Hermione Granger holding Godric Gryffindors hand was, at the very least, a shock. He met Hermione's eyes with his own twinkling blue ones, seeing her blush and turn her head away.
"Ahh yes, Harry, I do believe you have not met our visitor..."
Harry blinked. "You... you know him?"
Albus chuckled. "How well can you know a man whom history professes to be dead?"
Harry frowned. "Professor I don't..."
"My dear boy, please sit down. Miss Granger, please..." He motioned to the three chairs before his desk, and all three walked hesitantly over, placing themselves gingerly in their chairs. Harry stubbornly took the middle chair, forcing Hermione and Godric apart.
Godric resisted the urge to glare at the younger man and instead averted his gaze to the elderly mans twinkling gaze.
"I assume, Harry, that Miss Granger has failed to tell you who our mysterious guest is?"
Harry glanced at Godric through hardened eyes, then back at the headmaster. "He said hid name was Gareth Gornwell."
Dumbledore blinked, almost stupidly, a look unbecoming of his great intelligent. "Gareth...?"
Anger visibly shot through Harry. It was clear from the sudden movement with which he twisted round to glare at Godric. "Who the hell are you?"
"Harry, Harry, my dear boy. I believe the situation can easily be explained if you would listen for a moment to Miss Granger."
At this, Hermione gasped. "Professor, I don't think I can..."
"Miss Granger, it is quite clear that you have more knowledge of the current situation, so please, if you will.." he flourished his hand in invitation, and Hermione sighed.
"I don't know where to start..."
"Who the hell is he?" Harry snapped, rounding on Hermione.
"Do not," Godric said quietly, yet in a voice that held menace and protection in every syllable, "yell at Hermione."
Harry's jaw clenched and he looked back at Godric, currently regretting his choice of seat. "Why don't you tell me then?"
Rolling his eyes, Godric said softly, "my name is Godric Gryffindor."
The silence that followed was rather welcomed in Godric's opinion, and the look on Harry's face was almost priceless. After several moments, Harry's voice cracked. "You can't be. He's dead.. and so are all of his descendants!"
Godric glanced in Hermione's direction, looking for help. She sighed. "Godric's had an accident... something happened that made him come forward to this time... and we don't know what it is."
"But... you... he..." he made frantic motions at his mouth and pointed repeatedly from Hermione to Godric. "Kissing... hands... dress..."
Hermione blushed. Godric, too, had the good grace to look slightly ashamed. "Well.. he's been here for quite a while... and we... it was only tonight..."
Godric snorted in amusement, then stopped himself, pressing his fist to his mouth to stop from laughing.
"What's so funny?" Hermione said to him, raising an eyebrow.
Godric smirked, throwing a small glance of amusement at Harry, then winking at her. "We've been breathing sex tension from the moment we met..." She shook her head slowly, telling him silently that now was truly not the time.
"I don't get it." Harry said stiffly. "How is he here? How do you even know who he is? Why do you even believe he's not Voldemorts spy?"
Hermione opened and closed her mouth repeatedly, then looked at Godric blankly. "I... I don't know... I never... I didn't..."
Godric frowned. "Who or what is Voldemort?" He said, clearly dumbfounded. His question was directed at Dumbledore, though his eyes found Hermione's and there was some depth of pleading for trust in them that made her shiver agreeably.
Dumbledore's twinkling gaze was not missed by Harry however, and he looked at him quizzically, quite forgoing his manners and awaiting the headmasters answer without polite question.
"I can safely say, Harry, that he is most definitely not a spy." The twinkling remained, and yet the headmaster did not elaborate.
Harry waited, then suddenly, "how can you know that?" He demanded. "How can you know he's not a Death Eater."
"Because, Harry," Dumbledore said, his tone slightly harsh, "it is my job to know these things, and until I recieve proof otherwise, then I hold firm to that belief. Now, if that is all.."
"No! It's not all!" Harry's face was flushed with anger, and yet he could tell that the conversation had been closed, and that he his welcome had been worn out.
"I believe it best to continue this discussion at a later date, Harry. Perhaps you and Miss Granger should return to your House Common Room."
Hermione stood instantly, placing her hand on Harry's wrist and attempting to lead him towards the door. Godric also stood, though his concern was not of Harry's departure, but of Hermione's.
"Perhaps, Godric, it would be best for you to remain here for a small time. I believe there are things that we should discuss." Dumbledore's voice did not hold invitation; it was more to be considered a well disguised order. Godric looked at Hermione for several moments, attempting to meet her eyes, but her gaze was averted as she led Harry from the room. Harry's eyes did not leave Godric as he was pulled and led gently from the room. The door closed on Godric and Dumbledore, and a silence enveloped them that made the hairs stand up on the back of Godric's neck.
--
Hermione didn't let go of Harry's hand until they reached the bottom of Dumbledore's staircase and were safely outside the gargoyle-guarded passage.
Harry's jaw was set determinedly, and Hermione was somewhat scared to break his stubborn exterior to gauge just how angry or confused he really was.
It was Harry that broke the silence, his cold voice haunting and chilling compared to the warm and relaxed tone Hermione had come to expect from him. "Why didn't you tell me?" He cracked. Hermione had to admit, it was not quite the question bombardment she had built herself up to.
"What do you mean?" She asked timidly.
"I mean, why didn't you tell me about him. I'm you're best friend Hermione - I have been for seven years haven't I? So why am I finding out about some guy coming forward a thousand years by having him barge in on our dinner?" The hurt in his voice was obvious, and it was clear to Hermione that he was not angry about Godric's presence anymore.
"I... we... I didn't think it was a good idea. He's not supposed to be here, and the more people that know about him, the more likely it is for history to change..."
Harry looked at her in disbelief. "Hermione, he's here, whether people know it or not. I can be trusted you know! I'm not likely to blurt it out to the nearest person! I have some control!"
"I know Harry it's just..."
"It's just what? It's just that you're sleeping with him? It's just that you're not willing to share this with me? Haven't I earned even a little bit of trust?"
Hermione caught his hand and shook her head, tears threatening her eyes. "You know that isn't true. When I had the time turner I was told it could change history and not to tell anyone. And this is on such a larger scale! Please Harry, you have to understand, I never wanted to hide it from you I just... I just..."
Harry looked at her, and slowly the anger and hurt dissipated from his eyes, replaced by a soft sympathetic look that led to an enveloping hug.
"It's alright.. I'm sorry I overreacted.. but... isn't he a bit old for you?" Hermione gave a watery chuckle.
"He's not that old?"
She practically felt his frown on her head. "Only a thousand and something..."
She smiled. "Age is a number."
"Yeah..." Harry agreed. "A very, very big number."
--
Godric sat himself down and surveyed the older man carefully, trying not to appear nervous or scared. It seemed, however, that the man before him had a kind and welcoming aura only when something of serious nature was not being discussed.
"How did you know?" Godric asked, breaking the unnerving silence that stretched between them.
Dumbledore smiled at him in a chilling manner. It reflected none of the charismatically sweet expression that Godric had come to expect, and he rather regretted even questioning the man.
"I this an assumption that I will tell you anymore than I told Harry?"
Meeting Dumbledore's eyes levelly, he raised one eyebrow. "I believe that there are certain things you felt Harry was in no need of knowing. I on the other hand, am the one you've inevitably spied on."
"Spying, my dear Godric, is not a word in my vocabulary. I have, however, noted certain things that tell me quite forcibly that you are who you say you are."
The feeling of intense vulnerability overcame Godric, and he felt almost as though he were a puzzle simply waiting to be pieced together. "And what exactly might they be?" Godric probed, his eyes not leaving Dumbledores.
"Priori Incantatem." Dumbledore said softly.
Staring blankly, Godric said nothing.
Dumbledore elaborated slowly. "I tested your wand, to see the spells that you had used recently. I found spells that are not only lost to the knowledge of many, but also spells that are illegal in the current day and age, and that have not been used in over two hundred years at least. Then there was the clothing; I asked myself why a spy of Voldemort's would even consider wearing such clothing and holding to such a farfetched and altogether unbelievable story. Then, of course, there was the lily. A lily that I know is said to have died with the last founder of Hogwarts." His eyes were sad as he looked at Godric, but he continued on. "Your wand is not registered with the current Ministry of Magic. It is lost to us in fact, possibly in your own time and your own tomb... it is your identity, and I know that you truly are Gryffindor." He looked at Godric with a small smile on the corner of his mouth. "And I also know..."
Godric nodded slowly. "You know how to get me home."
Dumbledore's sad expression did not falter. "I do."
Godric did not question how he knew that this were true, he could only confess that in that moment where Dumbledore explained his reasons for believing in him, he understood that Dumbledore knew more to the situation than he had let on, and that the oppurtunity to go home was presenting itself in all forms. He nodded bluntly, the force of that knowledge hitting him like a ten tonne brick.
"You didn't say anything... why haven't you told Hermione? She's been working to get me home... you said you knew less than she did."
Dumbledore smiled. "I do, my dear boy. I know much less about you than Miss Granger. I believe Hermione deserves to work this out for herself... though if you wish to return tonight, then you have my solemn oath that I will not withhold information from you and you may return."
The blank, empty feeling swamping Godric's chest left him chilled and uncertain. "I will... consider it..." he reasoned with himself that one more day would not hurt... he could at least say his goodbyes. "Who is this Voldemort?"
"He is your friends descendant..."
Godric's head snapped to attention. "Rowena's? Helga's?"
The look on the headmasters face was enough for Godric, yet even though Dumbledore had most certainly understood that Godric had realized the truth, he spoke the single word that haunted Godric's dreams.
"Salazar."
--