Unofficial Portkey Archive

Disclaimer: The characters in this story do not belong to me, but to JK Rowling who created them and writes them much better than I do;)

Author's Notes: Thank you for all the support on this story! I know I sound repetitive in my notes sometimes, but I really do appreciate everyone who takes the time to read/review one of my stories. I hope you keep doing so, and that it continues to hold your interest.

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Until Such A Time
by Kristen Elizabeth

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He didn't like the way Lupin looked at her when they surfaced from the cold loch water. He didn't like the how the man's eyes lit up; he didn't like the way she smiled and swam for the shore. And he definitely didn't like they way they embraced, holding each other for just as long as was proper, but too long for Harry to ignore. An unfamiliar emotion bubbled up in the dead center of his chest.

Jealousy.

It wouldn't be a matter of merely shrugging this feeling off. As he and Emma emerged onto dry land, Harry watched the older version of his wife with their former professor. They were speaking, but their conversation was too low for him to hear. If he had been pressed for a logical guess, he would have supposed that Lupin was checking on her well-being in all the confusion and excitement.

But he wasn't exactly thinking logically. He could only imagine what whispered words they might be exchanging. Before it drove him crazy, Harry shook his head, flinging water every which way. It was insane. Lupin was twenty years their senior, ancient now to a twenty-four year old.

But to a forty-two year old...twenty years didn't seem like all that much.

Lupin called to him, "Harry. Are you all right?"

He blinked and looked at them again, saw the worry and concern in both of their eyes. There was more than that though. Guilt was hidden on each of their faces; Hermione even had to avert her gaze away from his. Harry swallowed. "I'm just fine. Where do we stand?"

"We're working on gathering as many people as we can," Percy replied, coming up from behind Hermione and Lupin. "George has gone back up to collect the rest of the Order."

"And once everyone is here?"

"That all depends on whether you got it or not," Lupin said. "I assume you did?"

Emma unzipped her waterproof jacket and pulled her mother's thick book out from it. "Here it is. Safe and sound, Mum, just like I promised."

Hermione smiled at her daughter and took the book. "Haven't you still got some research to do?" she gently reminded her.

With a sigh, Emma pulled out another book, found a quiet place near a clump of rocks and settled back into the business of devising a solution to the time-traveling mess she had instigated.

"All right." While opening the book and flipping the pages, Hermione led the men to the central campfire where the light was better. "The first thing, the first defense Hogwarts has it that it's invisible to Muggles. Not a problem...we've all been there before."

"I haven't," Emma reminded them, raising her voice to be heard.

"Emma." With her daughter placated, Hermione continued, "As you know, it's impossible to Apparate or Disapparate within Hogwarts grounds. Well, not impossible just...difficult."

"You've found a way around that one?" Lupin asked. Was that pride in his tone? Did his eyes shine just a bit too much with it as he looked at *his* wife? Harry's eyes narrowed.

Hermione flipped another page and tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear. For a second, Harry felt like he was back in school, studying for exams with his best friend. His girlfriend. "The Quidditch pitch is the trick. I'm not quite sure why, but it's not protected by the barrier. If we Apparate onto it, we can avoid being seen in Hogsmeade altogether." She glanced up. "That is the plan, right?"

"Of course," Percy said. "There are too many of his followers living in Hogsmeade. Including Ron."

"All right then. Now, once we're actually on Hogwarts grounds, we're completely vulnerable. So, might I suggest..." Hermione looked at Harry. "Your cloak? It will expand to fit all of us, yes?"

He blinked. "Er...yes. Sure."

"There's only one problem," she continued with a sigh. "It's up in the attic back at the cottage."

"Mum?"

Hermione waved off her daughter's call. "Give me a second, love." She frowned. "Well, I suppose someone is going to have to go back for.."

"Mum..."

"Emma." She turned to look at her daughter with evident exasperation. "What is it?"

"Dad's cloak...it's sort of...not in the attic."

Hermione folded her arms. "Then, where is it?"

Emma chewed on her lower lip. "Underneath my bed." She held up her hands before her mother could reprimand her. "I know! Okay, once again, I'm sorry!"

Harry stepped towards his daughter. "I'll go back for it," he volunteered. "It's all right."

"Are you sure, Harry? Without the cloak...if anyone saw you on the way there..." Hermione didn't need to finish the thought.

"No one's going to see me; I'll Apparate straight into Emma's room."

Lupin rubbed his jaw. "I don't know, Harry. It's a risk."

"Everything's a risk," Harry shot back, his voice harsher than he had intended it to be. "But it's worth it." He started for the water's edge; despite that, he certainly wasn't thrilled about going back into the water for the fourth time.

Emma hesitated a second before dumping her book into Percy's arms. "Wait! I'll go with you, Dad!"

At this, Hermione firmly shook her head and reached out to restrain the girl. "Absolutely not! You are staying right here, Emma. It's too dangerous out there now."

"Come on, Mum! I'm protected by the charm. Dad's in a lot more danger than I am."

"Your father is also a fully-trained wizard. You are not."

Emma turned around to face her mother. "Mum...you're always saying that I have no practical experience. Well...here's my chance!" Her hazel eyes pleaded with Hermione, begging to be allowed to spend even a short few minutes with her father. "Please? I'll be fine; I promise."

It pained him how Hermione turned to Lupin for his opinion first. When the older man gave a short nod, she looked back at her daughter. "All right. Just...be careful. Please." She glanced at Harry. "Both of you."

Emma nodded, excited, and kissed her mother's cheek. "Love you, Mum!"

"I love you, too," Hermione whispered. She released the girl's shoulders and watched her approach her father's side, a huge smile lighting up her pretty face. As the two waded into the water, she called out to him. "Harry!"

He turned his head. She was standing there, tears shimmering in her eyes. Harry swallowed again; he couldn't seem to get rid of the lump in his throat. Lupin had moved just behind her, a wall of solid comfort for her to lean on if she needed it. "I wouldn't...let anything happen to her," Harry assured them both.

Hermione nodded. A few minutes later, her daughter and husband disappeared under the glass surface of the loch. She let her back curve slightly, knowing that Lupin was right there to keep her standing. He always had been. Eighteen years of shared pains and struggles had turned them into the closest of friends. They could talk about anything...with one exception. They both felt it now as he placed his hands on her shoulders. The only secret they kept...the night nearly seven years past. The night when loneliness, grief, fear, and repressed lust had sent them into each other's arms.

She closed her eyes. Why did her life have to be so complicated?

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"I'm never going to get the scent of loch water out of my hair," Emma sighed, twisted the thick, chestnut strands of her hair into a rope. "Of course, with a little luck, the cavern won't even be needed anymore soon."

"With a little luck," Harry repeated. He looked around the Scottish highlands; the sky was lighter at the very edge of the horizon, signaling the oncoming dawn. "Let's go; I don't want to be gone too long."

Emma let her wet hair fall back around her shoulders. "Don't worry about me, Dad. The charm..."

"Just how does that work, anyway? I thought the Fidelus could only work on places. Houses."

"That used to be true, up until last year, actually." She began squeezing water out of her rugby shirt. "But then Remus found a way to extend the spell to create the same effect around a single body. Sort of like an Invisibility Cloak, except certain people can still see us, while others can't. Wicked, eh?" Her eyes shone even in the dark. "Remus is so smart. He even figured out his own spell to keep himself...well, himself during the full moon. See, it's a pretty basic..."

Harry cut her off, suddenly sick of thinking about his former professor. "That's fascinating, but we really should get going."

His daughter stared at him for a minute. "It's not me you're worried about, is it. It's Mum. Just Mum." She looked down at the ground. "Yeah, I suppose I should have figured that."

"Emma, don't be ridiculous. Of course I'm worried about you. I'm worried about everyone. And not even just everyone in *this* time." He pushed his own hair, slick with water, off of his brow, baring his infamous scar. Harry dipped his head to see her lowered face. "Are you coming?"

She nodded and lifted her chin. "It's okay, you know. I don't blame you. I mean...it's not like I'm really real."

Her words died on the cold wind that swept over them as she spoke. Harry frowned. "What? I can't hear you."

"It doesn't matter," Emma called back. "C'mon."

Apparation always left Harry with a slight headache that usually faded after a minute or two of standing on solid ground. There was just something about being magically plucked from one place and plopped into another. And he had done it so many times that day; he vaguely remembered McGonagall's warnings to his seventh year class when they were studying the difficult subject. Apparating too many times a day was not doctor recommended.

But within seconds, he was back in his daughter's room. There was little light, and what light there was turned the darkness into a menacing specter. Shadows of stuffed animals loomed over them with fuzzy paws outstretched. Harry glanced over at his daughter. She was already on her knees, rooting underneath her bed for the cloak. Suddenly, he turned his head towards the door; the tiny hairs on the back of his neck rose.

"I've almost got..."

"Shh!" Harry effectively silenced her. "I hear something."

Emma froze, her cheek pressed against the smooth wood floor. "What is it?" she whispered.

He took a slow step forward and kept his voice low and calm. "I think...someone's in the house." A loud, wooden creak just on the other side of her door confirmed this. There wasn't any time to do anything; he just prayed that whoever was there was one of the people on the raw end of the Fidelus Charm. Emma's safety was a much higher priority than his.

The door began to open; with his foot, Harry gently urged his daughter to slide her body under her bed. There wasn't a sound in the room, not even the sound of breathing. With Emma mostly hidden away, Harry took a few steps back, slipping into the relative safety of the dark shadows created by her dresser at the far corner of the room.

When a dark figure entered the pink sugar kingdom of Emma's bedroom, Harry didn't have to be able to see well to figure out who it was. There was just enough pre-dawn light to catch the silver blonde in the man's hair. Harry watched Draco Malfoy, never letting his eyes leave him, as his childhood enemy walked around the room. He wondered what Draco was seeing. Ripped dry wall, a shredded mattress, dust? It certainly seemed that way as the older version of the man picked up a stuffed animal and immediately threw it aside.

Harry bit into his cheek. Draco Malfoy. He hadn't thought about him in years. He had disappeared, along with the rest of his family and his family's friends, after Voldemort's defeat. Harry had always figured he was slinking around Europe like a coward, hiding out in ancient mansions unknown to the Ministry, living off the charity of wizards who might think like him, but were smart enough to hide it well.

Now, obviously, he was back in England and doing just fine if his expensive robes were any clue. Harry felt his fists ball up. Of all the things Draco Malfoy had ever done to him, the small part he had played in Ginny's death was the one thing Harry would never, ever forgive him for.

With his heart pounding within his chest, Harry came to a quick decision. He took a breath and stepped out of the shadows.

"Who's there?" Draco squinted in the darkness; he wore glasses now. Time had touched him as much as it had Hermione. There was more silver than blonde in his slicked back locks. "Weasley?"

Harry forced himself to remain calm, even though he could fairly feel Emma's panic filtering up from under the bed. He moved to the window, letting the light catch his face. It gave him enormous pleasure to hear Draco draw in a huge breath.

"Potter..." Fear dripped from the word; Draco's skin had always been pale, but it was now white, whiter than the hair of a unicorn.

"Draco Malfoy," Harry said, surprising himself with the depths of his voice. He gave it an unearthly quality that only seemed to make the other man paler.

"What the...?" Draco blinked several times. "You're dead..."

Harry stared at him. "Yes. I am."

"A ghost..."

"Draco Malfoy. Leave this place."

He licked his dry lips. "What are you going to do to me, Potter?" The words were brave, but he was not. "Haunt me? Go right ahead...I've got enough ghosts on my conscience. One more won't matter much."

"What conscience?" Harry asked, almost amused. "Return to your master; he's waiting for you."

"Master?" Draco snorted softly. "You've been dead too long. And not watching too closely from wherever you've been. The only master I answer to is myself."

Harry tried not to frown at this. "Do not lie."

"Don't you have anything better to do than to hang around here for all eternity? Shouldn't you be watching them? The Mudblood and her brat?"

Blood boiled beneath the surface of his skin. "I have good reason to be tied to this place. Why are you here, Draco Malfoy?"

The blonde man shook his head, chuckling. "Good question, Potter. Why am I here? It's not what you probably think. I couldn't give a damn about finding your family; that's Weasley's obsession, not mine." He sat on the edge of the bed, his black robes almost touching Emma's exposed arm. Harry watched as he stared at his hands. "Ginny ruined me forever, you know?"

This time, Harry did frown. "Ruined."

"I didn't even realize...I loved her until she was gone."

"You loved Ginny." Harry tried to say it in a way that wouldn't give away his utter shock at the admission, but it was difficult. Draco had loved Ginny? He hadn't even ever seen them have a conversation that didn't include insults.

"And I know what you think," Draco continued. "What you died thinking. That I somehow knew what could happen to her." He lifted his head to stare at the wall. "Well, I didn't. My father knew...but he neglected to share the details with me. He had known ever since the day he forced the diary on her. He knew it would tie her to Lord...to Voldemort. He got off on the idea of one of Arthur Weasley's runts being spiritually connected to everything he stood against."

A long moment passed as Harry absorbed this. "If you had known, would you have warned us? Would you have tried to save her life?"

"I would have done anything," Draco whispered. "Anything to keep her alive." He looked back down. "But I only found out...the day she died. When Voldemort's life-force was threatened, he drew life from the souls linked to him. I *was* coming...to tell her. But I didn't know the damn Gryffindor password and the bloody fat bitch wouldn't let me in without it!!" He closed his bloodshot grey eyes. "You carried her out into the hallway, but she was already dead. I was hiding behind a statue. I hated you more than I ever had before...and that's saying something...because you got to hold her. And I never would again."

"Ginny loved you?" It was a question, but it came out like a statement. Harry thought he caught the gleam of a tear on Draco's cheek, but when he blinked, it was gone.

The man lifted his shoulders. "We were young. We fooled around. I liked the reputation I got around my House for being able to get any girl, even a younger Gryffindor. She liked the danger of doing something wicked, something that might get your attention. I just don't think we realized...that it grew into something more. Or maybe she never did. Maybe it was just me." After a second, Draco stood up. "So, I'm here in the dark, in a wreck of a house, spilling my guts to the ghost of the great Harry Potter, because I miss her. And there's nowhere else for me to go when I feel this way."

"Ron," Harry said.

Draco laughed. "Weasley? I doubt he even remembers he had a sister, much less mourns her death. Just a necessary casualty in his Lord and Master's rise to power. You should know that, Potter. Or do you only spy on the living people who didn't betray you?"

"You do not follow the same master?"

"Not when his back is turned," Draco muttered.

Harry paused. "There is atonement, Draco Malfoy. And it's for the living as well as the dead."

"Atonement?" he repeated. "What are you babbling about?"

"Turn away from the Dark and align yourself with the fight for good. If you truly feel remorse for Ginny Weasley, this is your chance for forgiveness."

Draco shook his head. "Dying only made you dumber, Potter. Do you think I'm going to join a rag-tag group of mostly Mudblooded wizards who are all going to die soon? Ginny's been dead for almost twenty-five years. I don't feel that bloody sorry anymore."

"What are you...talking about?"

"I might hate the bastard, but I'm smart enough to stay in his graces," Draco went on. "When he finds your friends...well, you couldn't pay me enough Galleons to be on the wrong side of that battle." He moved towards Harry. "Weasley's finished his Truth Serum for his mother; he'll have his bloody Secret-Keeper soon. If you're lonely wherever you are, Potter, you won't be for long." He reached out a hand to grasp Harry's shoulder in mock comfort. "They'll all be with you..." His fingers made solid contact with Harry's robes; Draco jumped back as though he had touched pure fire. "You're solid!"

Harry stepped back, bumping into the pink wall. "Your mind plays tricks on you, Draco Malfoy," he said, the words not even convincing to his own ears.

"You're not a ghost!" Draco accused him. "You're real..."

"You're mad."

The other man moved for the door. "Perhaps. But not about this." A horrible smile made his lips curve. "Won't Voldemort be excited? You know...he's always said that the only bad thing about killing you was that it was over too quickly. Now it seems like he might get his chance to..."

He never got to finish his thought. Harry's fist flew out from his robes, slamming into Draco's nose with the force of the Hogwarts Express. Cartilage crunched, skin broke, blood spattered. The punch knocked the breath out of the man for a moment, rendering him unconscious. He crumpled to the floor, a huge lump of black cloth and sliver-blonde hair.

Harry tried to relax his finger, but they were stiff and numb. With Draco out of the way for the moment, he hauled Emma out from under her bed. She clutched his cloak in her hand. "Dad! What happened?" Right then, she caught a glimpse of Draco's body. "Oh my god..."

"Come on! You heard everything. We have to get going; there's no more time to waste." Harry kept holding his daughter's hand as they prepared to Disapparate. There would be no more discussions about the logistics of sneaking into Hogwarts; there would only be action. Because if they failed, Voldemort would win. Again.

And any past, present or future that Harry might have had would be gone forever.

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To Be Continued

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