I dont own the Harry Potter characters
--
It wasn't his business - it wasn't his time to meddle in, and it was not his enemy to defeat. And yet, even as he lay there in such blatant defiance of his own involvement, he could not fight the feeling that he was needed, and that it was his destiny to help. He was here, in a time that his enemies descendant was wreaking havoc and pain on the whole of wizard kind. His enemies descendant: an enemy who deserved nothing more than a shovelling of manure on his headstone and a vase of dead flowers. He had sworn, more times than he could count, that if ever he had the chance to avenge his sisters death he would sieze it with both hands... and yet the mere idea of it seemed unnatural now, as though by staying he meddled with the very nature of life and time itself. The darkness outside his window bore with it a chill that slid through his body, covering his bones and forcing him to shiver. He could not stop the overpowering feeling that he should not be here, and yet found himself listening too to the small voice inside his head that seemed to whisper of fate and destiny... The tap on his door went unnoticed for several moments, and only when there was a sharp knock did he shake himself from his deep thought and mutter a half-hearted "come in."
He looked up without interest, and even when he saw Hermione stood before him, wearing a smug smile that said she had done something she was extremely proud of, he could not find it in himself to smile back. She seemed to glide over to him and pressed her lips to his with such delicacy it might have been misinterpreted as a dream. Yet even as her tongue probed at his mouth, sliding in to meet his gently and tentatively, he felt as though he did not belong there. "Hermione..." he murmured, pulling his mouth from hers lightly.
"Shhhh..." she whispered, pressing a finger to his lips, a mischievous grin on her face.
He shook his head, grasping her hand in his and pulling it into his lap. She looked at him in confusion, then sat herself beside him, eyebrows slightly creased in a frown.
"What's wrong?" she asked softly, squeezing his hand reassuringly.
Godric looked at her for several moments, then back at the floor, before speaking quietly. "This Voldemort... he's Salazar's descendant."
Hermione nodded slowly. "Yes..."
"You remember what I said last night? About how if I ever had the chance I'd kill him as he killed my sister..."
"Of course I do..." she whispered softly.
He looked at her, pain and anguish so clear in his eyes that she felt the compelling need to kiss it away. "This might be my chance..." he said emphatically. "I could have a chance to avenge Gwendolyn, to make Salazar pay for all that he did to her!"
Hermione said nothing- instead she stroked his hand comfortingly, waiting for him to continue, sensing that there was emotion about to be shown that she had not yet witnessed in the man before her.
"I know it's meddling with time to get involved," he said quietly, "but the fact of the matter is, now that I know he's here, and that Salazar didn't just die as I thought and hoped he might have done, I can't help but feel as though this is the reason I'm here; to avenge her. Do you believe in fate Hermione?"
"Yes." She said softly. "Yes, I do."
"Then you understand?"
"I understand why you think this might be fate, yes," Hermione said carefully. "But I also understand that a single wrong movement can change history and future for the worse, and that by helping us fight against him you'll be risking almost every life currently in existance."
Godric couldn't help but allow a small smirk to cross his face, "don't be so overdramatic," he implored, stroking her face.
Hermione looked at him sternly. "I'm not being overdramatic. If you die here, then any children you might have been destined to have won't be born, and niether will any more of your descendants, meaning that whole generations of numerous families in existance are not born because of it, and possibly changing the entire course of life."
Godric looked at her in disbelief, and something close to disdain. "You see this all as just one big experiment, don't you?" He said scornfully. "You see me, not as a person, but as a tool in order to work out how best to prove yourself as intelligent. You don't seem to understand that this is my life we're talking about, my sisters life, my whole belief system!"
"Of course I understand!" She snapped, jerking her hand from his. "But the fact is that you have to be mature enough to accept that you have descendants living in this time, that may not even be born if you put a foot out of line here!"
Godric stood up, walking to the window and taking several deep breaths before saying simply, "I don't care about them."
Hermione could only look at him in utter disbelief.
"I don't care about them," Godric repeated, "because I've never met them. I never will meet them. It doesn't matter whether I have hundreds of descendants alive now, what you have to accept is that to me the people of this time are nothing more than a distant speck of existance, just as to you the people of my time are nothing but a name in a history book. You think I care more about these people here, than I do about my sister? Do you really think I'll care whether they're born if I can go to my grave with the knowledge that I stopped another person dying as a result of his blood?"
"How can your own kin be so insignificant," Hermione queried, "when your whole argument is that your enemy has Salazars blood - a mere drop of his blood! How is that any more important than yours?"
"BECAUSE I DIDN'T KILL ANYONE!" Godric roared, turning on her with anger and pain distorting the handsome lines of his face. "BECAUSE HE HURT THE ONE THING THAT I GAVE A DAMN ABOUT! BECAUSE EVERYTHING I LOVED HE TORE APART! BECAUSE HE PUT ME THROUGH MORE PAIN THAN ANYONE SHOULD EVER HAVE TO GO THROUGH, AND HE DESERVED TO DIE!"
For the first time in Godric's presence, Hermione felt scared, and it seemed that almost instantly, he recognized it as such. "I'm sorry..." He whispered, stepping forward with a hand outstretched. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to yell at you... I was just... I'm angry... he angers me still.. I can't apologize enough..."
Hermione stepped back from him, shaking her head. "Nobody deserves to go through that Godric, I'll give you that much. But how can you stand there and even begin to hint that your descendants are less important than his. I thought your house was meant to be one of bravery and loyalty, not cowardice and disownership." She looked at his still outstretched hand and shook her head. "I think for the first time, I'm actually ashamed to be in Gryffindor." And with that she left the room, without a glance over her shoulder.
Godric stared after her for several moments, then left the room, running after her as he chased down the corridor, grasping her wrist and pulling her back.
"Hermione..." he started.
"Let go," Hermione said softly, not looking at him as she tried to pull her wrist away.
"I'm sorry." He said, trying not to pull her against him to stop her running from his company. "I don't mean to be like this... but you have to understand, it angers me so much that I don't think straight... I just.. I don't know what comes over me... Can't you imagine how I'm feeling? How would you feel if you were in my position Hermione?"
She looked up at him, eyes watering. "I don't know..." she whispered, "but I wouldn't yell at the one person who was trying to offer support."
He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Hermione seemed to wait for some kind of movement or effort to communicate. When none came, she pulled back and whispered very quietly, "goodnight Godric."
--
A week passed- a week in which she did not venture to come and see him, nor return his letters or make any sign of acknowledgement to his existance. His evening walks were spent alone, with only the river and the birds for company. The comfort and thrill he had felt when he held Hermione's hand on the walks was replaced with a chill that made him wonder why he even bothered to venture out. Several times, he considered returning to Dumbledore and asking him to return him home; each time, he chose not to. He told himself that he wished to remain in order to fight Voldemort, his enemies descendant, but as the days passed by and his longing for Hermione's company increased, he realized that in comparison he could hardly care less. He did not feel as though he needed to fight Voldemort as a vengeance for his sister, but more that he needed to stay, just to make sure that she would not forget him. He felt suffocated, trapped and encaged. He felt he could do nothing but wait, and found himself hoping for a chance to run into her. Several times he considered finding her chambers and slipping in to see her, before he remembered that there was a password on her door, one that he did not know, and it was probably covered with a portrait of someone who he had never met.
When there was finally a knock at his door, in the late hours of sunday evening, Godric leapt to his feet, rushing to open the door and greet Hermione, only to find that the person on the other side was niether female or welcome.
The green eyed man that Godric vaguely recalled to be named Harry looked at Godric with such intensity of anger that the older man almost shut the door on him.
"What in hell's name did you say to Hermione?" Harry growled, and though the boy was almost a head shorter than he, Godric found himself rather nervous.
"I don't know what you mean." He said levelly.
Harry did not seem to pay heed to manners and courtesy, and pushed his way into Godric's room without asking for permission.
"She's been moping around all week, saying she want's to be in Ravenclaw. What did you say to her?"
"I didn't say anything to her." He said stiffly. "She decided for herself that she didn't want to be in my house. I fail to see how it's any of your business."
"She's my best friend." Harry replied coldly. "You upset her, and it's my job to find out what you did."
"Not that it's really anything to do with you, but for your information all that I did was ask a question, to which she greatly over reacted and behaved like the hormonal teenage girl that she is!" The harsh, coldness in his voice shocked him, and he blinked in an effort to take it back. "I didn't mean..."
"It seems you're doing and saying a lot of things you don't mean to recently," Harry said. "Why don't you just leave?"
Godric looked down and sighed. "Tell her I'm sorry." He said, then turned away from Harry, falling onto his bed and staring at the cieling.
"It won't work."
"Then tell her... tell her I... tell her I miss her." The dawning realization came at once, and he suddenly felt a compelling need to run to her rooms and embrace her.
Harry snorted and seemed to consider saying something else. "You know, I don't think the Gryffindor whose sword I found would have sat back and let someone else tell her. If you miss her so much, find a way to tell her yourself. If you can't, then butt out of her life and go home."
The door slammed shut behind him. Godric didn't follow.
--
Perhaps it was Harry barging in that had done it; perhaps he'd just been on the border of realizing it and it just so happened that he realized how much he missed her in Harry's presence; perhaps he had just become so bored of the pattern on the cieling that he had longed to miss her to leave this forsaken room. Whichever route lead to such a realization, at the same time came the knowledge that he could not sit there and berate his loss for the rest of his time there. He remained firmly convinced that he should remain for his sister's revenge, and refused to accept the offer of returning home - after a week sat alone in his room, wondering if he ought just to return home, he knew the answer more clearly than ever; any revenge was better than none, and to him, loyalty to his family constitued vengeance of their deaths - yet still he recognized the fact he needed her company - he craved it and longed for it. In hopelessness, he walked down the deserted corridors, listening to his feet echo in the darkness of the night. He didn't really know where he was going, but allowed his feet to carry him along, not really considering that he might run into anyone. As it was, when he collided with a soft, warm, small figure, he felt as though he was fast becoming the most idiotic of fools. When that figure fell to the floor and he looked at her, he recognised the hair and slim figure almost instantly, and felt his heart beat faster in his chest.
"Hermione!" He breathed, elation breaking out in every syllable. "I'm so glad to see you!"
He pulled her to her feet, letting her steady herself against him by grabbing his biceps. She looked at the floor, apparently trying to avoid his gaze. Godric looked at the side of her head, then lifted a hand to her face, twisiting it ever so gently to look at him, before pressing his lips to hers. She seemed to freeze in his arms, but she did not pull away, which to him answered the most important question; he did not repulse her. He moved his lips lightly against hers, placing a hand behind her head, one arm sliding around her waist. It felt like an eternity before she reacted, but when she did, her lips moved with his, causing such a flood of exhilaration that he felt compelled to never let her go. Her arms slid around his neck, and he pulled her flush against him, savouring the warmth of her body and the feel of her lips on his.
"Godric..." she murmured quietly against his lips, "you shouldn't be..."
"Shhh," he hushed, capturing her mouth again lightly. "We can talk later."
For once, she didn't argue the logical point that at any moment Professor Snape might walk along the corridors to find her kissing a complete stranger, and nor did she argue the point that one of them needed to apologize... for the latter, she reasoned, this was apology enough. They stood for several minutes, wrapped around each other with their mouths locked together passionately. At some point he managed to manoevre them so that her back was pressed against the wall, his hands bracing himself on either side of her. Her gentle hands roamed his back, warming him from the insides as she ran over the strong muscles his shirt covered. He pulled his mouth back from hers and whispered lightly in her ear.
"Maybe we should move from here.."
She smiled, kissing her way down his jaw and neck before nodding in affirmation. "Ok..." she murmured, pushing him gently back and taking his hand in hers with a winning smile. He smiled back, leading her along the corridors quickly, not wanting to wait any longer than he needed to before he could kiss her again.
--
There was scarcely a moment between shutting the door and the initiation of another hot kiss. This time, it was his back against the wall, and Hermione ground against him in a manner he would never have foreseen from her. A lustful, feral growl escaped his lips and his arms wound around her waist crushing her into his body and making her whimper. Something stirred in him at that moment, something that felt both sinful and wonderful at the same time. He pulled his mouth from hers and looked at the floor, guilt and wonderment washing over him.
"What's wrong?" She asked, confusion wiping away the warm glow in her eyes.
"You're seventeen..." he said softly. "It'd be like... sleeping with your teacher."
"What teacher of mine is thirteen years older?" She whispered. "How many times are we going to have this conversation? I'm not that young. I'm definitely not innocent by any means."
He looked at her then, sorrow plain in his expression. "If this happens... if we happen... how can I go home? How can I leave you here?"
She blinked, stroking his cheek lightly. "I don't know. I don't care. Right now, all I want is this. Don't argue with me," she said sternly, "I'm not in the mood for another fight. I like you. You can do as you wish - if you truly want to fight Voldemort then I have no right to stop you. It's your decision." She kissed his lips chastely, savouring his taste. "I've been thinking about you all week, and it's been eating away at me that I said what I did... It's your life. It might be that your meant to fight him... I trust your judgement... And I don't feel ashamed to be in Gryffindor at all." She looked at him with a smug, seductive smile. "In fact I'm rather exhilarated at the prospect of having Gryffindor in me."
Godric gulped, looking at her with a dry mouth and lustful eyes. "Are you sure that's a good idea? I don't think you should just jump for me. In fact, you should really be on the way back to your rooms. It would be improper for me to do anything with you if I plan to see you again... and there is no way that we can be married so that this won't seem like some sordid and illicit affair."
Hermione bit her lip, then giggled at him helplessly. He frowned.
"What's funny?" He ground out, feeling slightly insulted. "I'm trying to be a gentleman!"
She laughed harder, resting her head against his chest as her eyes filled with tears of laughter.
"I don't think..."
"Godric, we're not in your time anymore. These days its perfectly fine for a woman to spend the night with a man. And no, we won't be getting married." She covered her mouth to stop another giggle escaping her lips.
He looked at her, slightly gobsmacked, then said, "aren't you a virgin?" The question blurted out of his mouth before he could word it tactfully, and the next moment he opened and closed his mouth in hopelessness.
Hermione smirked, then leant up, whispering in his ear. "No... I'm not."
He stiffened, his hands gripping her waist tight. "You're not...?"
"Why are you so shocked? Are you?" The smirk on her face ignited something and he looked down at her with heated eyes.
"No. I'm not. But I'm a man. You on the other hand..."
"Surely," Hermione said softly, "if you aren't a virgin, then you must have slept with a woman, and so it shouldn't be such a shock that women have had sex."
He searched for a clever comeback, but could not find one. He looked down at her, feeling rather riled.
She smirked again. "Have I outsmarted you?" She asked innocently.
He grinned. "No, Hermione, you haven't outsmarted me." He grabbed her suddenly, pulling her roughly against him and plunging his tongue into her mouth. She grasped his shirt helplessly, whimpering loudly. He smiled into the kiss, then pulled her head back slightly, not all too gently. Smiling into her eyes, he said quietly, "I want you, Hermione. And as for you not being a virgin... it just means you get to amuse me, instead of my constantly entertaining you."
--
There was a flurry of discarded clothing marking their path towards his bed, and by the time they fell down on it they wore nothing but their undergarments. Hermione whimpered underneath him as he ground against her, rubbing an agreeably well sized bulge into her thigh. His mouth peppered a trail down her neck and shoulderbone, his muscular arms encircling her tightly, leaving her with a mixed feeling of belonging and of being safe. His lips left tingles on the surface of her skin, and the pool of warmth between her legs seemed to grow with every touch. His fingers brushed lightly over her side, sliding down to her thigh and tracing intricate patterns on her youthful skin.
"How does it feel?" He whispered softly.
"Mmmmm..." she murmured, "how does what feel?"
"This." He kissed her neck, sucking lightly on the skin and smiling at her gasp. "Being underneath me... being wet for me... being mine for the night?"
"Yours?" She whispered.
"How does it feel?" He repeated, ignoring her question.
"It feels..." she closed her eyes and sighed. "It feels incredible..."
He smirked, tongueing her ear lightly. "Good."
His hand slid to her hips, toying with the fabric of her lacy knickers. "You're an angel," he whispered softly. "A beautiful, gorgeous, angel." Between each word he kissed her face, the last word leaving a small kiss on her lips. "My beautiful Sunrise..." he lifted his hips slightly, moving her knickers down her legs.
"Mine..."
Godric threw them aside, one arm reaching round to unclasp the odd fastening on her bra. He didn't care for the difference to the traditional corsets he was used to - the garment was in his way, and it had to come off.
"Mine," he said softly, cupping her breasts in his hands and kissing each one in turn.
She moaned his name softly, then met his eyes, her hands sliding into his hair. "Mine?" She questioned softly.
He nodded slowly. "Yours," he replied. She kissed him heatedly.
--
SEX
SEX
SEX
Lemon time next time I think...
so review...
Or I might pack it in.
Mage of the Heart