Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property of J. K. Rowling. This story was written for fun, not profit.
Future Imperfect
Chapter Four
"Now maybe there's a God above,
But all I've ever learned from love
Is how to shoot at someone who outdrew you."
-- Leonard Cohen, "Hallelujah"
the present
A few of the Slytherins looked up as Neville approached them, but they didn't tell him to leave or insult him -- facts that told him he had found the group he had been looking for. Blaise Zabini and Tracey Davis reminded him of wary, cornered animals, while Theresa Nott had lifted her chin and was glaring right at him. He sidestepped the tall, dark-haired girl, preferring to deal with Blaise's slightly more friendly face.
"What do you want?" Tracey asked. She had blond hair and clear blue eyes, and her hand was stuffed in her pocket as if she was clutching her wand.
Neville glanced at the three girls standing with him. They just watched him, even Padma. He was the spokesperson, apparently. "We wanted to see if you were okay."
"Why should you care?" Theresa snapped. "You couldn't be bothered with us before, could you?"
"Stop it," Blaise said quietly, silencing Theresa with a glance. When she just glowered at him, he turned back to Neville. He looked tired and worried, like someone who had had an unexpected weight passed to him -- and in that moment Neville realized that he might have found another person who understood exactly how he felt. "Why areyou here?" he asked. He didn't exactly sound friendly, but at least he wasn't being hostile.
Neville took a deep breath and plunged on. "We wanted to know why all this happened. Now, I mean."
"You mean right after the attack." It wasn't a question, and he didn't give Neville a chance to answer anyway. "Theresa said she thought it was strange that all the...the dead students were either members of the D.A. -- "
"You know about the D.A.?" Ginny interrupted, scowling at Blaise.
He glared at her. "I'm a Slytherin, not an idiot." When she fell silent for the moment, he sighed and kept talking. All the anger seemed to drain out of him in a heartbeat. "Like I was saying, the dead students were all either members of the D.A. or Muggleborns. When Theresa pointed that out, her brother Theodore and Draco started saying things."
"'Better them than us,'" Tracey said, shivering. "That's what they kept saying. So of course Blaise and I told them to stop it, because we both have a Muggleborn parent."
"And they wouldn't stop," Blaise added. He looked more angry than traumatized. "I don't think they understood what they were really saying."
"Oh, they understood just fine," Theresa said. "I got sick of it and hexed Draco, and he tried to hex me back -- and everybody picked one side or the other." She gave the three Gryffindors and Padma a challenging look, as if daring them to question this account.
Neville didn't bother, at least not in her presence. He trusted Blaise and Tracey a little bit, but he had no idea what to do with Theresa -- not if she was a Nott. There was at least one Death Eater from that family, and her brother Theodore had always delighted in tormenting the Gryffindors.
"I'm sorry about your sister," Tracey said suddenly, breaking the awkward silence. She was looking at Padma, and Neville could hear the genuine sympathy in her voice.
The remaining Patil twin closed her eyes for a moment and let out a shaky breath. "Thank you," she managed at last. While her voice was quiet, it was even. "I have to worry about Parvati later. We...." She trailed off, as if she was afraid to say what they all suspected.
Luna filled in for her. Whatever else she was, the sixth year was hardly shy about saying what she thought. "We think that the Death Eaters are going to attack Hogwarts soon." She pointed at the larger group of Slytherins. "They probably know about it."
"And now they know who's safe the kill," Blaise finished with a grimace. He put an arm around Tracey, who looked horrified and started to shake.
Neville shook his head as a new resolve filled him. "No one else is going to die," he said, wishing he felt half as sure as he sounded. "There's still members of the D.A. left. We'll have them talk to whoever they can, and try to get people ready in case something does happen."
"We have to get everyone out of the Great Hall somehow," Padma said. "They'll be easy targets otherwise."
Ginny started scouting the Great Hall again, the color draining from her face as she took in the hundreds of students all crammed together. "How do we get the Aurors to let them out? They won't believe us -- not if we already tried getting out once."
Neville shook his hread. "I don't think we canget out," he said softly.
He half-expected a protest, but there was none. There was nothing any of them could say, and nothing to do but hope they were wrong.
~~
Hermione prided herself on her analytical side. It was let her look at things objectively in a crisis, or at least that was what she liked she think. She was good at planning ahead and seeing through things, even if it made other people hate her. Someone had to do the job, and if it kept Harry and Ron safe, so be it.
The drawback to this kind of approach was that when confronted with a split-second decision, without any time to rationalize, she tended to panic. And right now she was simply trying to remember how to breathe.
Samantha was a foot from her. She had Harry's coloring, but the curious tilt of her head, the way she kept her hands clasped in front of her, the way she rocked from foot to foot as she clearly puzzled over something -- those were Hermione's mannerisms. This was her little girl. That thought made her head hurt. She had never imagined even having children -- had never thought that far ahead....
"Can I hug you?"
She forced down panic and stared at Samantha. "What?"
The little girl worried her lower lip. "Can I hug you?" she repeated. And then, more softly, "Please?"
Hermione nodded and opened her arms. Almost before she had moved, Samantha tumbled into her and clung to her. Her tiny body began to shake as she hid her face in Hermione's shoulder, and her breath began to come in hitching gasps and sobs. She clung to her future mother as if she was a lifeline and began to cry brokenly. Through her shock, a detached part of Hermione's mind noticed that she seemed to be very good at staying quiet, even in a situation like this.
Harry looked over, worried, and Ron reached out to smooth Samantha's flyaway hair. But Helen never even glanced up from her musings. Hermione scowled at her and tightened her grip on the little girl. She didn't feel inclined to like Helen at all.
"What do I do?" she hissed at Ron. Samantha wouldn't stop crying, and although her whimpers were muffled by Hermione's shoulder, it was still possible to make out "mama."
Ron's hand stilled on Samantha's hair. For a moment he just looked at Hermione with a strange, blank expression. She hugged her would-be daughter tighter and waited for him to say this was her problem -- or worse, hers and Harry's. Then she would be able to get angry with him and they would have one of their rows, and eventually they would make up and everything would be okay.
But all he did was sigh and shake his head. "Maybe you should try rocking her or something?"
She did, jerking back and forth in awkward motions until Samantha quieted. Part of her had hoped that Ron would do something irrational and selfish, although she wasn't sure why. Maybe it would have made it easier to accept Samantha's existence if she was mad at him.
Doubts were beginning to creep into her mind, and she hated them. She liked solid facts and she liked being sure of things. This kind of situation permitted neither of them.
"She looks a little like you."
Hermione's hand stilled in Samantha's hair. She didn't want to look at Ron, but she made herself twist around and glance up at him. "Do you think so?"
"She's got your expressions," Ron said. He smiled, although she could tell it was forced. "I'll bet she bosses people around too."
"Probably because her friends have no common sense and would get themselves killed without her." The familiar, back-and-forth banter made her feel a little better, although it didn't slow her racing thoughts. She cuddled Samantha closer and leaned against Ron. The way the little girl fit so perfectly in her arms was alarming.
Ron was silent for a long time. When he did speak, his voice was the barest whisper. "Do you think of Harry like that?"
She looked away from him and shook her head, lips pressed into a stern line. "We already went through this."
"You can tell me if you do." He sounded like someone braced for a blow.
Hermione opened her mouth and then closed it again, because what she had been about to say wasn't true. "I don't think of him like that now," she said, and wondered if she meant it. "But I did, in fifth and sixth year."
For some reason that seemed to make things worse. Ron just sighed and held her as if she were a lifeline, hiding his face in her hair. She clutched at him with her free hand, but couldn't hold on to him as much as either of them wanted. Samantha was in the way.
~~
"What do you mean, you don't know how?"
"I don't," Helen hissed, and spun away from him to stare at the floor. "It's been years since this happened, and I wasn't there. If I had been maybe I could figure out what kind of magic the Dark Lord used, but -- "
Harry fought down a hot surge of anger. "Where were you, then?"
Helen's shoulders tensed, and he backed away in case she started screaming again. But she didn't. After a moment she hunched like someone expecting a blow. "I can't tell you, Potter. You wouldn't believe me."
"You can't tell us a lot of things, can you? If you're trying to change the future -- "
Helen finally turned to face him again. There was a familiar expression on her face, a blend of worry and outrage that didn't quite fit her features. It belonged to someone besides this tall, beaten almost-version of Hermione, and he felt that he should have known who else had worn it. Her identity was there, he realized. It was in front of him, etched across her face, and all he had to do was reach out and take it from her.
Her voice was soft and proud. "Do you know who I am, Potter?"
For a few seconds he considered lying to her, and then decided against it. "No, I don't."
She nodded and fell silent, the golden chain twining around her thin fingers. He wondered if another Time Turner hung from it. "If I tell you why I wasn't there," she said at last, "then you'll try to protect me. I don't have time for chivalry."
"I don't have time to sit around arguing with you, either." He marched over to the table and pushed the few odds and ends on it into a rough square. "This is Hogwarts, okay? And here's the entrance. Where's Voldemort going to appear?"
Helen flinched at the name, but pointed to a spot right outside the entrance. "Here. He'll have a portkey."
"Great," Harry muttered. "Do you know where he got it?"
"Probably Malfoy," Ron muttered as he and Hermione climbed to their feet. Hermione carried Samantha back to the bed and laid her next to baby Julian before she hurried over to the others.
"Draco Malfoy?" Helen's lip curved into a snarl. "I wouldn't put it past the bastard. I don't know how much he was told about the plan -- not with his father in Azkaban."
Harry shook his head. "Never mind that. We have to find a way to get back to Hogwarts before Voldemort gets there, and we have to do it without a portkey."
"And if we get there too early, we'll be trapped with everybody else." Ron grimaced and glanced at Hermione. "I don't suppose you can make a portkey?"
"I wish I could." Hermione ran her fingers through her hair, still sticky with dried blood. "What about the tunnel under the Whomping Willow?"
"That could work, if it's not guarded." Harry looked up from his makeshift battle plan and turned to Helen. "It's not guarded, is it?"
The waitress looked genuinely confused. "What's not guarded?"
"There's a tunnel from the Shrieking Shack to the Whomping Willow," Hermione said. "Not many people know about it."
Helen shook her head. "Then I can't imagine the Dark Lord does. I've never heard of it."
"We'll try that, then." Harry checked his pocket to make sure his wand was still there. "We should start moving, then. There's going to be Aurors all over Hogsmeade and I don't think we have time to explain to them." He looked at Hermione as he spoke, waiting for her to argue, but she just sighed and nodded.
"What do we do with them?" Ron asked, pointing to Samantha and Julian. "I don't want to leave them here."
"I didn't plan to," Helen said and marched over to scoop up the half-asleep baby, whom she thrust at Ron. "Here. Make his blanket into a sling. I'll carry Samantha."
Hermione's jaw dropped. "You can't take them with us!"
"Why not?" Helen snapped. "It's safer than where they came from." She waited impatiently until Ron had fashioned a sling for Julian, and then tapped one of the bricks with her wand to make the staircase reappear.
Harry risked a glance at the sky as he followed Helen down the stairs and felt a pit open up in his stomach. The sun was already beginning to set.