Until Such A Time

Disclaimer: Characters not mine, for the hundreth time. JK Rowling is the creator; we all merely borrow from her.

Author's Notes: Thank you so much for the last chapter's feedback. Yes, my cliffhangers are bad; I'm sorry. I'm practicing for when I'm a writer on a TV drama or soap opera;) Fade to commercial... Thanks for hanging on with me, despite them. Or perhaps because of them. Who knows? At any rate, thank you for reading and reviewing.

PS: Did you hear that they cast Lupin? A British actor named David Thewlis, according to the report I read from the BBC. I looked him up. He's perfect. Just FYI;)

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Until Such A Time
by Kristen Elizabeth

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"Harry?" The word came out on the breathless strands of a whisper. Hermione didn't move; she appeared to be frozen to the spot. But he could see tears building up in her wide-open eyes. As he continued to watch the older version of his wife, unable to think of a single thing to say, she blinked and let her tears fall.

He cursed himself for being so careless. With everything that had happened to Hermione, she shouldn't have to be standing there, going through this particular brand of torture. Setting down the book in his hands, Harry swallowed and opened his mouth to say something, anything.

But she spoke first. With her eyes firmly shut, Hermione shook her head. "You're not real. You're never real. You're dead and you're not coming back to me. When I open my eyes again, I know you won't be there. Because I am *not* crazy."

"Hermione..."

She clapped her hands over her ears. Her brown hair, sadly touched throughout with grey, swung against her frail shoulders. "No...no, you're not really talking to me. It's all in my head." She repeated this several times, as if to force herself into believing it.

Harry stepped forward and reached for her hands. "You're not crazy," he assured her. Her skin was cold to the touch and she visibly flinched at the contact. "It's me."

Her eyes opened; she looked up at him with watery distrust. "Who are you?" Hermione broke away from him with violent motions. "Why are you doing this to me?!"

"Hermione, it's going to take a bit of explanation, but I really am Harry. I'm not trying to fool or trick you, I swear." He laid his palms against his chest. "I'm Harry from eighteen years..."

"I don't know who you think you are, but coming into my house parading as him is just about the cruelest thing anyone could do." He watched her whip her wand out from inside her bathrobe and point it directly at his face. "Now...tell me who you are and how you got in here."

Harry lifted his hands into the air; Sirius had been right. "You have every right to think I'm not who I say I am. But please know..." He stopped to consider his next words. Just as Emma had been forced to prove herself to him, it was now his turn to prove his own identity to the woman he loved. "Hermione, do you still have the bikini?"

The hard corner of her mouth twitched. "The bikini."

"You know the one I'm talking about," he said, looking her straight in the eye. "Don't tell me I'm going to have to remind you."

Her arm wavered, and the twitch in her lip turned into a quiver. "You've been through my things, too? What gives you the right to..."

"Hermione, it's me! I know about the bikini because I'm the one who talked you into buying it on our honeymoon in Hawaii. And I'm the only person who's ever gotten to see it on you...at least to my knowledge...because we never quite made it down to the beach. It's blue with little pink flowers..." He moved forward, his hands still in the air. "The ties on the top have been magically sewn back into place more than once." Harry stopped; the end of her wand almost touched the tip of his nose. "I'm not here to hurt you, love."

The wand lowered and her tears reappeared. "You touched me. You're not a ghost?"

"No," he said softly. "I'm as alive as you are."

"Then...that's not saying much." Hermione reached out a tentative hand to touch his cheek. "You look like you do in my dreams. Just like...the last time I saw you." She spoke between soft, choked sobs. "How can you...how can you be here?"

Unable to lie to her, Harry gave her a quick review of the day's events, glossing over Emma's involvement. All the while, her cold hand rested on his cheek. As his tale drew to a close, he reached up and covered her hand with his to warm it. "So...here I am. This wasn't how I wanted to see you. I hadn't even decided if it would be a good idea to see you at all. But...it's happened and I think we're dealing just fine." He smiled at her.

It was a smile she hadn't seen in eighteen years and one that she had never expected to see again. She had forgotten how his smile lit up his entire face, making him a thousand times more handsome. His eyes sparkled like rare emeralds; his hair was thick, unruly as ever, and shone even in the dim light. He was healthy...youthful...the love of her life. Forever twenty-four in her mind and now standing right in front of her once again, not having aged a day.

All too suddenly, Hermione remembered herself. She pulled her hand back from his smooth cheek and touched her own. She could feel the signs of age that had formed in eighteen years. Laugh lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth, although she had done little laughing since his death. She touched her hair, painfully aware of the grey hairs that seemed to multiply every day. Her body was so thin now, almost bony. She was forty-two years old. All too aware of it, she looked down at the floor.

"Hermione?" Harry frowned. "I know this is a lot to take in, but..." She turned around. "Can we at least talk about it? There are some things we need to..."

"How can you even stand looking at me?" she whispered.

"What?"

Hermione crossed her arms, hugging her entire frame. "Nothing. Never mind."

"No, you said..." Harry cut himself off. It didn't take a smart man to figure this problem out. Hermione had always put about as much emphasis onto looks as he did, she perhaps more so because she was a woman at heart. But it had never been an issue for her. Now...there they were. Two very different ages, at two very different stages of their lives. Truth be told, he had noticed the wrinkles and grey hairs...and he discovered in that moment that none of it mattered.

"Please turn around," he said, leaving little room for argument. When she finally did so, Harry reached for her chin and lifted it up to meet his eyes. "You're still my Hermione. And...you're beautiful."

Wet and warm, her tears cascaded over his fingers. "It shouldn't be possible...but you are...Harry. Harry." A moment passed between them. If it was all a dream, Hermione could only hope that she wouldn't wake up just yet. There was something she wanted to do, something she always woke up just before she got to do. Without hesitating another second, she wound her arms around his neck, nearly crying out at the aching sensation of his body pressing against hers. "Harry..." She squeezed her eyes shut. "Oh...you're not a dream either! You're really...truly here!"

Harry's own arms closed around her, completing the embrace. She still fit perfectly there, like she was always meant to, no matter how old they grew together or apart. "It's not a dream. I promise." His chin could still rest the top of her head; he closed his eyes and held on to her.

"There have been days," she began, her words nearly drowned as she pressed her cheek against the crook of his neck. "When I have missed you so much...that I wanted to die."

"Don't say that, Hermione. Ever."

Her back spasmed beneath his hand with a fresh sob. "I'm sorry. But it's true. And the only thing that kept me going was..." She froze. "Oh god. You don't know about..."

"Emma?" he guessed. Smiling, he dropped a kiss onto her hair. She still used her vanilla shampoo, the one he loved so much. "I didn't want to rat on our daughter, but she's the whole reason I'm here."

"You've met her?" Hermione reluctantly drew back. "She...brought you here? She didn't say anything to me about it."

"It's an even longer story." Harry kept his eyes on Hermione as he spoke his next words. "In fact, why don't you come in here and tell your mother everything, Emma?"

It only took a second for Emma to step out from behind the obscurity of the wall between the parlor and the hallway. In her plaid pajama set and pigtails, she looked about thirteen. Thirteen and massively sheepish. "Hi, Mum. Hi, Dad." Despite everything, she smiled broadly. "I can't believe I get to say that. You know...out loud and not just in my head."

"Emma." Hermione unwrapped her arms from Harry's neck and stared at her daughter. "What have you done?"

"Well...um..." She twirled the end of one pigtail around her finger. "I only did what you've taught me, Mum. If I ever had a question, you always told me to search until I found the answer. And...that's what I've done."

Natural curiosity, coupled with mounting maternal frustration spread onto Hermione's face. "Just what was your question?"

The girl shot a quick look at Harry. His arms were still around her mother, as if he didn't want to let go. "'What's the best way to make this whole world better?'," she replied. Hermione's mouth dropped open. "It was so clear once I read that book, 'The Hundred Greatest Theories You'll Never Prove.' Remember...the one Remus gave you for Christmas last year?"

"Theory #65. The Time-Traveler..."

"I'm considering writing to the publisher. They'll have to drop it down to ninety-nine now." Emma cleared her throat when neither of her parents offered any congratulations. "It was risky and stupid and I probably shouldn't have tried it at all. I'm sorry, Mum."

Harry looked down at Hermione. "It might not be my place to say so, but she is truly sorry. And she's offered to find a solution." He didn't want to add that merely by living in this nightmare existence, his daughter had already been punished more than enough.

"Of course it's your place. She's your daughter, too," Hermione said.

He nodded non-committally. "Have you made any progress in finding a reversal spell?" he asked Emma.

"You didn't have one when you did the spell in the first pace?"

Emma couldn't meet her mother's uncharacteristically angry eyes. "I told you. I was stupid."

"Oh Emma..." Hermione stepped out of the warm circle of Harry's arms to begin pacing. "Well, young lady. Answer the question. Not my question. Harry's."

"I've...um...it's complicated." The girl heaved a sigh. "It's coming along." She looked at Harry. "I'm really sorry."

Harry gave her a look of understanding. "Why don't you keep at it? I need to talk to Hermione. In private," he added to discourage any further eavesdropping.

Emma turned around, her fuzzy slipper-clad feet dragging. She paused at the doorway and looked back. "I only ever dreamed that I'd get to see both of you. Together. I do apologize for the problems I've accidently created. But I don't think I'm sorry for trying. I mean, Mum...I haven't ever seen you look as happy as you are right now. Doesn't that count for anything?" When she received no reply, Emma continued on her way, disappearing around the corner.

"She's right," Hermione eventually said. "I am happier now than I have been..." She took a breath. "But it's not meant to last. And I understand that. You don't belong here. The order of the world has been altered. By our eighteen year-old daughter."

Harry tucked his hands into the pockets of his pants. "She's a lot smarter than I was at that age."

"Book smart, maybe. But that's all she knows. Practical applications in real life situations...she has no idea," Hermione said sadly. A moment passed. "How are you dealing with all of this, Harry?"

"One minute, one new surprise at a time," he replied. "I have to say that, unfortunately, the hardest thing...is seeing Emma. The only image I had of her in my mind before this afternoon was from the sonogram photographs. I keep having to remind myself that this...woman in front of me is my daughter." Harry reached for the book he had set down earlier. "I missed her whole life. So...I can't be too angry at her for bringing me here. Because if she hadn't..."

"You would have missed it all anyway," Hermione finished for him. "There is so much I want to tell you, Harry, but..." She frowned. "What are you doing with my book?" With one hand, she brushed away more tears and with the other, she reached for the thick volume. "All those years I tried to get you to read it and *now* you're interested?"

He chuckled. "I really wish it was that simple." His smile fell. "Hermione...you and Emma are in danger."

"Every day of our lives, Harry."

"No, more so now than ever. Ron took his mother from her house today."

All the blood drained from Hermione's face. "Ron has...Molly?" she whispered. "He knows...he knows where..."

"I don't think Ron has any idea what he really has. But he does know that his mother knows something. That gives us time, but not much."

She clasped her head between her hands. "This is all happening...so fast."

"Remus and the others believe that Voldemort might be operating out of Hogwarts, which would make sense." Harry paused. "I sound like a bad American mafia movie."

"It would, yes."

He picked up where he had left off, indicating her book, "Did you ever finish the project?"

Hermione dipped her head. "For the most part...Harry!" Her full attention snapped back to him. "You're not thinking of..."

"It's the only way, Hermione. I know that Mrs. Weasley could probably hold out for a long time; she's a tough lady. But it's just not a worthwhile risk." Tucking the book under one arm, he reached out to brush his fingers along her jaw. "You're too important. You and Emma."

She thought for a moment. "And Remus is on board with this?"

"Reluctantly, but yes."

"Remus is very...cautious these days. He takes such wonderful care of us, even from the underground. We wouldn't have survived all this time without him. He's sometimes *too* cautious. You must have been a very powerful influence for him to agree to this." Hermione shifted her slight weight from one foot to the other. "You're like...this amazing breath of air, Harry. After so long without oxygen. It's as if life has come back...and we can all pick up where we left off." She lowered her eyes. "Don't worry. I know it can't last."

Harry took her fingers and pressed them against his lips. "Let's only think about rescuing Mrs. Weasley. The rest will come when it comes. And we'll deal with it accordingly."

Hermione's eyelids fluttered at the warmth of his mouth against her skin. "What are Emma and I to do? I can't just sit here...knowing everyone is putting themselves in such danger."

"Come with us. We need your power, Hermione. Your knowledge."

"Harry...I haven't...I couldn't. After all this time...going into battle again?"

With a smile, he squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Come on. Aren't you a little stir-crazy?"

Her brown eyes clouded over with fresh tears. "I suppose I am." She brushed them away and nodded. "All right. I'll storm the castle with you, Harry Potter."

"I knew you wouldn't say 'no'," he winked.

She looked down at the floor. "I could never deny you anything. Why on earth do you think I agreed to buy that bikini?"

A few seconds of heavy silence passed between them. Finally, Harry dipped his head, brushing a kiss across her mouth. Hermione whimpered slightly at the sudden intimacy, but her body, so long denied, responded by kissing him back, harder and deeper.

She broke away a minute later when it became too much. Her hands were tangled in his hair; his slid up and down her back. Gasping for air, Hermione shook her head. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I'm old enough to be your..."

"Wife," he replied, doing a little panting himself.

"Mother," she corrected him.

Harry frowned. "If I threw some flour into my hair to make it look older, would that make it all better?"

"Be honest." She put her hands on her hips, her classic argument position. "Didn't you feel just a little bit like you were cheating on me? The younger me?"

"Maybe," Harry admitted a second later. "Just a little bit though. I told you...you're still my Hermione."

"But I'm not. Not really. I've changed, Harry. I'm not the same woman I was...the woman you knew. Your Hermione...your real Hermione...is back in your world. Pregnant and probably missing you." Hermione forced herself to smile. "So, instead of standing here we should be doing what's necessary to get you back to her. Yes?" Leaving no room for discussion, she backed up towards the door. "Let me go change and we'll head to the hide-out."

Harry took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. "What about Emma?"

"She'll come with us, of course. But she'll stay there. I don't want her in any danger whatsoever." Hermione hesitated. "She's all I have left...of you." Turning on her heel, Hermione left him alone in the parlor, holding a copy of "Hogwarts: A History" and still tasting her lips on his.

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To Be Continued