Until Such A Time

Disclaimer: Not my characters, just my little yarn about them.

Author's Notes: Thanks to everyone who responded to the first part;) Good feedback was given and I'm ready to tell more of this story, even if only to prove that it's original and not some generic time-travel story. Ever notice how one bad review counts more than ten good ones? Anyways, if you're reading, enjoy!!

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Until Such A Time
by Kristen Elizabeth

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Harry had long since ceased to be amazed by anything that the power of magic could accomplish. He had seen so much, and only a little over half of his life had been spent in the Wizarding world. Even time travel wasn't a new thing; modern Time-Turners could take a person back as far as three or four days.

But eighteen years into the future...it was impossible to get his mind around the idea. He blinked several times, staring at the girl who claimed to be his daughter with an unbelieving eye. "Are you mad?" he finally asked her.

"Only a little," she replied, folding her slender arms. "Mum says I get it from you."

"Hermione?" Harry shook his head. "All right. Before we go any further, you start talking. I want the whole story."

Emma, if that was really her name, lifted her chin several notches. "It sounds like you need more proof. What do you want me to tell you? Your name is Harry James Potter. You were born on July 31st to Lily and James Potter in..."

"Sadly, any five-year-old child could tell you that," Harry muttered.

"All right." She unfolded her arms to gather her hair at the base of her neck as she thought. "Um...Mum told me that when you found out she was pregnant with me, you ran into a wall."

He blinked. "What?"

"A wall. The...er...hallway wall, I think she said. She was afraid you had given yourself a concussion, but she was more afraid that you had passed out because you were upset about the news."

His fingers pressed against his forehead, the exact spot where a nasty bump had appeared only six months earlier when Hermione had blurted that she was pregnant, causing him to forget to turn the hall corner in time and sending him slamming into it, full force. "You can't...possibly know that. I didn't even tell Ron..."

"Ron." He wasn't sure, but it almost seemed like her lip curled up in disgust. "Well, anyway...do you need anymore proof?"

"I want explanations." Harry lowered his hand. "If you're really my daughter...you know me enough to know that I like to know what's going on."

Emma cleared her throat delicately. "That's just it. I don't know you at all."

"What does that mean?"

"Look...there really isn't any easy way to say this." The girl hesitated for a second. "You have to understand, first of all, that I would never do this to you if it weren't absolutely necessary. This isn't some whim I had. I didn't go through all of this trouble for selfish reasons." She took another, calming breath. "The reason I don't know you is because...a week before I was born...." A second passed. "...you died."

A cold gust of wind hit them, making their hair dance around their faces. Harry expelled a breath slowly. "Whoever you are, you really are mad. Now, I want you to undo whatever it is that you've done and send me back to where I started out. Immediately."

"I can't do that." Emma took a step towards him. "I need your help. The thing is, I don't think you were supposed to die when you did. Something got messed up and you went before your time. And now the entire world has gone to hell and as far as I could see, the only way to make it right was to bring you here. To fix it." She nibbled on her lower lip. "So...what do you say?"

Harry dragged a hand down his face. "If this is really true...how did I die?"

"You know, there are probably a few things I shouldn't..."

"Tell me how I'm supposed to have died."

Emma let a few moments slip by before she replied, "Voldemort...rose again. Unexpectedly. You died facing him. Mum and I were spared...under the Fidelus Charm. We've been hiding all my life." Tears appeared in the corners of her eyes. "You have no idea how hard it's been. I didn't get to go to Hogwarts, not that I would have been asked. You can't get in there these days unless you can trace your Wizard blood back at least three generations. Purebloods only."

"Voldemort..." Harry whispered. "No. We defeated him." His voice rose. "Don't stand there and tell me that everything we did was for nothing! That everyone who gave up their lives did so in vain!" He shook his hands wildly. "Okay, this has gone way too far. Granted that I believe any of this, and don't think that I do just yet, what about everyone else?"

She frowned. "Everyone else?"

"Yes! Lupin...Hagrid...um...Ron? Hermione herself! Our friends...the other Aurors. I am one person out of hundreds who could stand up against Voldemort. I refuse to believe that my death brought about some kind of apocalypse."

"Mum's always told me that you were humble. But I had no idea." Emma shook her head. "Your death...it paralyzed the world. He took over within a matter of weeks."

"There are other people," Harry continued. "Ron, for one. After what happened to Ginny, he'd die himself before..." He stopped. "Oh god...please don't tell me that he's..."

Emma's reply was curt. "He's alive. Unfortunately."

"What?"

"Look, there will be time for better explanations later. Right now...it's getting late and I don't want to worry Mum." She glanced at her watch. "It might make it easier for you to believe everything if you see it with your own eyes."

Harry blinked several times. "If this is all true and I'm dead, how are you going to explain my sudden...appearance?"

"I'm not." She reached into her coat and pulled out a compact, paper-wrapped bundle, secured with heavy twine. After ripping into, Emma withdrew a very familiar, silvery cloak. "I believe this belongs to you."

"My Invisibility Cloak?"

She nodded. "I found in the attic one day. Mum doesn't know that I know about it. The Charm keeps us hidden even when we go outside, but this has come in handy for me more than once." She tossed it to Harry and he caught it. "It's dusty, but it still works. Put it on. And come home with me."

"What is Hermione going to say?" he asked, fingering the cloak's collar.

"Nothing. She won't see you either." Emma waved her hands in a similar gesture to Harry's of a few minutes earlier. "I promise, I will tell you absolutely everything later tonight. We have to hurry now; the sun's fixing to set."

Harry swallowed. "I don't want to believe any of this."

"I wish you didn't have to," she said softly. "Please, Dad. Just...put it on."

His head spun, but there really wasn't anything for him to do about it at that moment. She promised answers to all of his questions later; he would just have to be patient until then. Also, he would need her to get back to his world...his time...wherever. The place where he had been. He had no idea if he had simply disappeared without a trace, or worse. Or maybe nothing had happened at all and this was simply a dream or hallucination.

Whatever was going on, the girl leading him down the hill held all the cards and he had none. He reluctantly pulled the cloak up over his head. It smelled like moth balls. Harry sighed; he had the sudden thought that things were going to get a lot worse before they got better.

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The Apparated into Emma's bedroom minutes later. Harry immediately recognized it as the nursery he and Hermione had spent hours preparing for their child. Of course, the crib and changing stand had been replaced by a double bed and dressing table, but the pink-trimmed walls were the same.

"This isn't real," he said out loud.

"Shh!" Emma pointed in his general direction; with the cloak over his head, she couldn't locate him exactly. "I hear footsteps."

"Emma?"

She coughed. "I'm in here, Mum!"

Harry froze. It was Hermione's voice, without a doubt. As the doorknob turned, he braced himself for what was to come. The door opened, but he was unprepared for the person who stepped inside.

"Emma...have you been here all this time? I haven't heard a peep out of you."

His heart was suddenly too heavy for his chest. The Hermione who stood in the doorway looked absolutely nothing like the woman he had kissed goodbye in bed that very morning. If not for the book in her hand and her general features, he might have mistaken her for someone else entirely. She looked, in a word, old.

But it wasn't age that made her so; if the girl beside him was correct, Hermione was only forty-two. Years hadn't taken their toll on her...life had. There were dark circles underneath her eyes, the sign of sleepless nights spent crying. Her hair hung limply around her shoulders. She looked to be about thirty pounds underweight; her clothes hung on her body.

It was all Harry could do to stay still under the cloak.

"I've been studying," Emma smoothly lied. "I got completely caught up in...um...troll history."

Hermione gave her a look, a look he was entirely familiar with, having seen it on numerous occasions back at Hogwarts, when she caught him slacking off during study time. "Good. Then you can tell me all about them over dinner."

The girl fidgeted. "Er...okay. I'll be down in a minute. Just have to...wash up."

"Of course. Because all that page-turning is sweaty business. Especially if you're wearing that heavy winter coat around inside." Hermione left, but not without a parting look.

Harry released a breath when the door closed and pulled off the cloak. "Now would be the time to start explaining things."

"After dinner, I will. I promise!"

"She looks...she doesn't look like my Hermione. She looks like..." Harry balled up the cloak in his fists. "What's happened to her?"

Emma peeled off her black coat. "She lost you. She lost her friends, her job, her place in the community. She's been forced into hiding for eighteen years. And she's raised me, single-handedly and taught me everything I know about anything." She started for the door. "Listen. I know I'm asking a lot of you, but if you'll just give me until after dinner....I'll tell you everything. And I'll bring you a plate, I promise."

"I can't even...believe any of this is happening. I should be at home, with *my* Hermione, not in this...alternate freak world." He threw the cloak onto the bed in frustration.

"It's not a freak world," she replied, quietly. "It's the world without you. But you're back now. And I know you can make it better!"

Harry shook his head. "You're counting on me way too much. What we should do is find Ron and..."

"No!" Emma's eyes narrowed. "That is totally *not* an option." Down the hall, Hermione called for her daughter. "Damn! I have to go. Stay here, please. I promise...everything will be explained." She backed out of the door, her hands clasped in front of her, prayer-style. "Please...please...keep the cloak on. Just in case." The door was halfway closed before she stuck her head back in. "And don't get any ideas about looking for Ron. I didn't bring you here just to destroy everything that's left." With that, she slammed the door shut. He could hear her footsteps retreating down the hall.

Harry sat on the frilly, lace edge of Emma's bed. There was nothing else to do.

Twenty minutes later, he stood up, pulled the cloak back over his head and opened the door. Harry Potter was not famous for sitting on his hands when his life spun out of control. Knowing every inch of the house, he snuck down the hall, towards the dining room. Eavesdropping was all right, he figured, if you had been sucked into the future without explanation by your supposed flesh and blood.

He heard Hermione speaking first. "Look, I know that I can't expect you to stay cooped up inside for your entire life...and I understand that the new charm gives you a way to escape every now and then...but it's a not a privilege I want you to abuse." A fork clanged against a plate. "There are hundreds of people out there who would give up their very lives in order to hand us over to Voldemort. Can you understand how terrified I get when I know you're out and about?"

"I'm sorry, Mum," Emma replied just as Harry peeked into the room. She was seated across from Hermione, picking at a plate of stew. "I just needed some air."

Hermione shook her head. Her eyes shimmered with tears that Harry immediately wanted to soothe away. "This isn't the life he wanted for you. He wanted you to have everything; we both did." She sniffed. "Just please...in the future, let me know when you're going out and we'll go together."

Emma nodded. A moment passed as they both ate silently. "Mum," she began. "Did Dad..."

"Emma, love." Hermione reached for her daughter's hand. "It's been a very long day. Can we talk about...your father another time? Please?"

Reluctantly, the girl nodded. "Yeah. Another time." She sighed. "It's never a good time, is it?"

Tossing down her fork, Hermione buried her face in her hands for a second. "Please, Emma? Today is just..." She stopped. "Did you go into the city while you were out?"

"Er...just...not for long."

"I smelled his cologne upstairs," Hermione continued, wistfully. "I suppose it could be my imagination...but it was so real. I thought maybe you might have...been around someone who wears it now."

Emma raised an awkward shoulder. "I guess I could have. I don't really know what Dad smelled like."

"He always smelled..." She closed her eyes, remembering. "...like plain, clean soap. And when he'd come home from the Ministry, after being around...well, around other men...he'd smell like sandalwood and tobacco. But on special occasions or even on ordinary days when he was in the mood...he'd wear cologne. I don't remember the name of it. Just the scent."

"See, Mum?" Emma's voice was soft and slightly hoarse. "It's not so hard to talk about him, is it?"

He couldn't hear any more. It was too hard. His heart no longer felt heavy; it felt like he might not even have one anymore. Her anguish had shredded it to pieces. As he walked for the door, he pinched himself, willing his body to wake up from the nightmare. But it wouldn't go away. The house that had been stripped of all the pictures of them together at school, at their wedding...he was still stuck in it when the slight pain faded.

Harry still had enough presence of mind to carefully open the front door and close it behind him without a sound. The wind had picked up outside; he had to fight to keep all of his body covered by the cloak. And, he found out, it provided absolutely no warmth.

He started down the street; one of the reasons he and Hermione had chosen this little suburb to live in was that it retained an old-world charm that you just couldn't find in the heart of London. People knew each others names and it wasn't because the town was mostly made up of wizarding families. Even the few Muggles were aware of the magical world.

But now, the houses on either side of the street were, for the most part, boarded up. Empty shells, some even burned. No children played in the street, no cars sat in driveways, no one was outside grilling steaks or discussing the latest Chudley Cannons game over the fence with their neighbor.

Harry swallowed. If this truly was the world that his death had created, what could he possibly do now to undo so much damage?

He heard voices suddenly and almost stepped behind a tree before he remembered his invisibility underneath the cloak. Instead of hiding, he turned around to locate the source of the voices. With the sun almost completely set, it was impossible to make out faces on the shadowed figures that were walking down the street, going the way he had just come. But their conversation was impossible to miss.

"We've searched this street so many times, sir. They're not here...no one's here anymore."

"Oh, they're here. They're just hidden. Perhaps today will be our lucky day..."

Harry's entire body froze. The second voice...it was as unmistakable as Hermione's had been. He blinked, not wanting to believe what his ears were telling him. But the figures came closer and in the weak light, the face to match the voice materialized.

Ron walked towards him without seeing him; his robes were blacker than ink and billowed around his feet like a clinging shadow of doom. His hair was the only bit of color he had on; even his eyes, once so brilliant and blue were now dark and so heavily set ahead of him that he wasn't even blinking.

Another man in black robes trailed along beside him. "Sir, it's not a matter of luck. It's..."

"When I want your opinion..." Ron stopped only long enough to grab up his companion by his collar. "...I'll let you know what it is. For now...keep looking."

The man straightened his robes after Ron had released him and continued walking. "He's not going to be pleased that we're wasting our time here again."

A rush of air colder than the wind swept over Harry as Ron passed by him, missing his arm by a matter of inches. "On the off-chance that today might be the day they let their guard down and we find them...I'll risk it."

Harry followed them as quietly as possible, despite suddenly having trouble breathing. What had happened to Hermione was bad; what appeared to be wrong with Ron...was a thousand times worse.

Finally, Ron and his companion stopped exactly where Harry feared they would. The very house he had just left. To his eyes, it looked completely normal. Smoke rose from the chimney, there were lights on in almost every room.

But to the two men, "Nothing, sir. As usual. Just a boarded-up waste of space." The unidentified man kicked the side of the house. "It's not even fit for rats to live in."

"Who's keeping your Secret, Hermione?" Ron whispered, peering into one window. "When I find out..." He chuckled. "Oh...when I find out..." He stepped away from the house. "Let's report back. Lord Voldemort is waiting for us."

Harry stood completely still, unable to move even if he had wanted to, until Ron and the man Disapparated. When they had vanished, he sat down on the ground, ignoring the cold grass.

He was dead. Hermione was wasting away. His child lived her life in hiding. And Ron...his best friend...had gone to the other side.

Unable to stop himself, he crawled out from under the cloak and lost the contents of his stomach into a clump of nearby bushes.

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To Be Continued