Chapter Two
And is it right, butterfly, they like you better framed and dried.
Tori Amos
'The spell only works with two people,' she whispered, struggling to form the right words. She kept her gaze downcast and glued to the carpet. 'Two people with a connection.'
'What kind of connection?' He asked.
She swallowed nervously. This was it. This was the moment that she had planned for days. 'It has to be- It's a- The two people have to be in love.'
A shaky sigh escaped Harry's lips.
Great, she mused. Fantastic way to sound like an idiot.
She forced herself to look up at him and waited for a response. She knew that she was putting herself on the line, but she had to tell him. He needed to know. He needed to hear.
For a moment, they stood in silence. His eyes bore holes into her soul and the obvious distress threatened to crush her. She knew he recognized what she was trying to convey. Come on, she begged silently. Don't push me away.
'It won't work,' he murmured, turning his back to her. 'It can't.'
Hermione woke up with tears on her pillow and her engagement ring mocking her in the candlelight. The day's events came back to her with ferocious clarity. They were here.
It can't.
Her head turned on the pillow and she found herself staring at a sleeping Harry, clutching the blankets around him. This wasn't a nightmare, she thought with quivering lips. How ironic that the one time that they could stand being in the room together was when they had no other choice.
It can't.
Sometimes she had days where she could go without thinking about that moment. She'd walk around and pretend to enjoy holding Ron's hands and laugh with Hannah and Susan. Sometimes she had days where she'd write to her mother and tell her how happy she was to have a life she could finally share with someone.
Most nights she spent lying in bed, staring blankly up at the walls and wondering why she continued to keep lying to herself. She was miserable with a smile on her face, holding Ron's hand like she meant it and laughing to make other people think that she had this wonderful life.
But Harry, Harry saw right through her.
He just didn't do anything about it.
They now went through days without saying much to each other. While Ron mentioned offhandedly that perhaps Harry was finally coming into his own, she knew that her confession had been the final wedge between them.
And it would haunt her for the rest of her life.
'I love you.'
The words escaped her lips with such frightening certainty that she started to tremble. She could still taste him on her lips, a linger sensation of finally settling into the place that she should be in. But her rationality began to panic. This wasn't the plan, she kept telling herself. This wasn't the plan. She had wanted to wait when there was time- the perfect moment- but then again, there was never a perfect moment.
'I love you,' she said stronger this time. She looked up at Harry, standing before her with his hands shoved into his pockets and digging his toe into the carpet. He said nothing.
'Harry, didn't you-'
'I heard you,' he murmured, turning away from her. 'I heard you, but I don't think this is a good idea.'
Her eyes widened. 'But I-'
'No,' he said, his shoulders ridged and his back still turned to her. 'No, I can't do this. I can't lie to you. I can't make a...'
'A mistake?'
'Yeah,' he whispered. 'Yeah, a mistake.'
Combing a nervous hand through her tangled hair, she sat up and looked away from a sleeping Harry. Why? She wondered. Why did this happen now? How was it even possible when both Harry and her couldn't stand to look at each other? The spell had worked that much she knew and both Harry and her were dead in this time, but the spell had been designed for that last minute-
'This cannot work unless...'
She looked away from the Headmaster. 'Sir, I understand. However at the present circumstances, Harry and I are- are not really speaking to each other.'
'My dear child,' the old man murmured, taking her hand in his. 'These are the trials and tribulations of life. I had hoped that I could have protected all of you from this, but the facts remain. You and Mr. Potter are the strongest of our kind and perhaps, our only hope.'
She sighed. 'I'll talk to him.'
Hermione frowned. Harry had made his feelings clear to her, on several occasions. She recognized the dark and desperate longing in his eyes, for it mirrored her own. She saw him watch her with Ron, angry and betrayed. Sometimes, she wanted to scream at him. She wanted to ask why did she have to be alone if he did want her. She wanted shake him and hit him and just-
She just didn't want to play those cruel games.
She was hurting enough.
She glanced down at her hand, pale with a vicious scar from her fall etched across her palm. Her ring was intact, she mused bitterly. She struggled to fight the disappointment at the one thing that seemed to remain constant.
Her father had taken Ron into downtown London, searching for her ring. Ron had said it was the first time he had ever felt like he was doing something utterly significant. Yet instead of being happy when he slipped the beautiful solitaire diamond on her finger, she felt as if she had been locked away in an invisible prison.
She swallowed and pushed herself off the bed; grabbing a sweater that Ginny had lent her. Wrinkling her nose in disgust at the nauseating rose perfume that engulfed her, she turned from the bed and slipped quietly out of the room.
The cold air greeted her, as she was careful to shut the door behind her.
'You have no right to mess with time! You should know that better than anyone!'
The Compound was silent and unmoving, her eyes wandering up and down the empty hallways in her debate of which direction to go. She just wanted a moment. A piece of time where she could sort things out and figure out a way to get them home.
Left. A voice inside of her head prodded her. Wrapping the sweater tightly around her body, she began to walk the empty hallways and was glad for some silence. She was reminded of a prison as she walked. The walls were bare and grey. Each door she passed, which seemingly led to another person's quarters, was black and adorned simply by a rune or two.
She wondered who else was alive.
She wondered how many had died.
She wondered if there was ever a chance.
Hermione didn't know who kissed whom first, but his lips were on hers and her fingers were tangled in his hair. He seemed to hold her as if she were going to disappear.
'Hermione,' he whispered, pressing into her and his fingers trailing underneath her shirt. 'Oh Merlin, Hermione.'
Tears threatened to burn down her cheeks and she seemed to pick up her pace, as if she could walk away from her memories.
Like Harry walked away from her.
I love you.
I can't.
A mistake.
She fumbled blindly, the tears beginning to course down her cheeks and tripped against a door. The door flew open and she fell to her knees, her body shaking with the sobs that were fighting to be released. A cool breeze seemed to wrap around her and she then found herself staring in awe, as one by one the candles in the room seemed to light up.
Her eyes darted around the room, half in fear and half in unquestionable shock. This is my room, she realized. She recognized the collection of Muggle literature that lined a small bookshelf in the corner. Austen. The Bronte sisters. Dickens. Books her parents had given her for birthdays and Christmas celebrations. She recognized books that she had purchased in Hogsmeade and some of her old school books that she couldn't bring herself to get rid of.
Next to the shelf was a mahogany writing desk, covered with quills and scattered pieces of parchment. Several stacks of books were piled high in the corner of the desk as well as on the floor, leaning against the side. She recognized maps of London taped to the side of the wall. She saw postcards from the Art museum and from the history museum.
The walls were a faded blue, paint peeling from the fringes. She could make out some gold in some corners. Her eyes flew to the bed, the sheets skewed and twisted. She recognized an old Cannon's t-shirt.
Then she saw it.
Forcing herself to stand, she walked towards the wood nightstand by the bed. Her hands shook violently as she was careful not to disturb anything else in the room. I shouldn't be here, she thought. I shouldn't be here. I should turn around.
On the nightstand lay a journal and a few scattered pieces of jewelry. She picked up a necklace that her mother had given her for her sixteenth birthday. There was a pair of earrings that lay skewed to the side. Her grandmother Marie had given them to her before she died.
And her engagement ring.
She forced herself to swallow the bile that threatened to escape her lips.
With shaking hands, she picked up the journal and opened it.
'Everyone needs a journal,' her father told her, kissing her on the forehead. He smiled at her. 'Consider it a sort of therapy.'
She laughed. 'Are you trying to tell me something?'
The pages were fringed and covered in blood, causing a chill to creep down her spinning. Had someone pulled this out of the fire? She wondered, remembering the scene at the castle Harry and her had been brought to. She flipped idly, page-by-page, and noticed that some pages seemed to be missing- especially more towards the end, as if someone had gone through and ripped them out.
The smell of rotting human flesh still lingered in the back of her mind.
She tried to focus and read, but the words seemed to blur together. There were scattered inkblots and words that seemed to have been burned off. She slid to the floor, turning page after page with a shaking hand.
Harry kissed me today.
She froze and could not will herself to turn to the next page.
Harry kissed me today and somehow, I was reverted back to that shy and insecure eighteen year old that I was my last year of Hogwarts.
It was a terrible kiss. Very awkward as if we were two parts of a whole that were trying to fit together and shouldn't.
But he kissed me.
And I kissed him back.
I kissed him back and I felt alive.
'Oh Merlin,' she whispered, her voice echoing through the room.
She turned to the next page, the desire to know more overpowering her rationality.
Harry took my engagement ring off my finger tonight.
'It doesn't belong there,' he whispered as he slipped my shirt of my shoulders. His lips pressed against my throat and his touch seemed to burn me.
'It doesn't belong there,' he continued, my jeans following my shirt and landing in the pile of our clothes. The battle today had been terrible. We had lost a significant amount of people, Dumbledore's plan to move the students had failed and we had lost both Molly and Arthur Weasley.
I should have been with Ron.
I should have been grieving.
But Harry was on his knees and his hands were pressing against the insides of my thighs and soon- oh Merlin- his tongue was against my clit and I was trying not to fall.
The journal fells from her fingers with a quiet thump, tears trickling down her cheeks and soft sobs escaping her lips.
That's why the spell worked, she realized.
She didn't need to read on to understand what had happened between her and Harry here. They had been seeing each other behind Ron's back. And Ron- flashes of his face began to assault her- although cold and hard, didn't know a thing.
Hermione forced herself to stand, grabbing the journal so that she could return it to the top of the nightstand. She forced her heart to steady, so that she could return to her room intact.
I should have been with Ron.
Was fate so cruel? Was this some vicious cycle that Harry and her seemed to partial to? Could they no longer hurt each other so they moved to hurting the people that loved them?
I should have been with Ron.
She needed to get out.
Dropping the journal back where she found it, she weaved through the room on shaky legs. Cold fingers wrapped around her wrist and she was yanked backwards, stumbling against the wall to steady her balance.
'Who the fuck are you?'
Her eyes went wide and she turned around to make an apology to the person who had discovered her. Her hands flew up to her mouth in mixed horror and relief as she recognized the person in front of her.
'Neville,' she whispered, her lips quivering.
Gone was the boy that had listened to her without fail during their years at Hogwarts, instead, before her stood a man with vicious eyes and a patch over one of his them covered in blood and grime.
'Oh fuck,' he breathed. 'Oh fuck, it is true.'
Hermione found herself crushed in his embrace, her hands gripping his shirt to hold herself steady. A hysterical sob escaped her lips.
'Neville...' She couldn't bring herself to say anything else.
He pulled back, his hands gripping her arms tightly. He studied her silently as if he were looking for signs of an imposter. Her eyes studied him from the harsh contours of his face to the tattoo that peeked from under his short sleeve t-shirt.
'The spell worked then,' he murmured.
She nodded and couldn't bring herself to say anything, her eyes glued to his tattoo. It was a drawing of Excalibur, she realized with wide eyes. She couldn't help herself- whether it was to make sure he was real or not- and reached out and touched the vines that wrapped around the sword. He was watching her, she realized as she looked up. A ghost of a smile fitted across his lips.
'You gave me the idea.'
'I did?' She whispered.
He nodded. 'Harry and I got drunk off our arses one night and dragged you to a place in London. You were so angry,' he said with a fond laugh. 'Harry and I both got one and it took us an hour to convince you to get one too. Ron didn't speak to any of us for week after that.'
Her heart broke at the look of nostalgia in his eyes. Neville had always been a good friend to both Harry and her. He was always willing to listen and kept her company some nights in the library when she had to study late.
'It's strange, you know. Seeing you like this. I-' He shook his head. 'How the hell did you manage to find this room?'
She trembled, remembering the strange urge to come in this direction. 'I don't know. I was looking for a place to sit and be alone. I couldn't breathe in the room they put me in.'
'Weasley told me that you guys were here. How's Potter?'
'Lost,' she admitted, strangely comforted by the fact that Neville wasn't treating her like a fragile piece of glass or some potion's experiment. 'Scared. Confused. We both are.'
'So the spell work,' he said, more to himself than her. He reached forward and brushed a strand of her hair back behind her ears. 'You do know why you're here?'
Her eyes closed.
She did, that much was obvious. And the situation here was dire, what they had stumbled upon was evident of enough. It was the circumstances that led to this that ate away at her. She looked up.
'Did...?'
Neville chuckled. 'Yeah. You used to tell me that Harry came around a year too late.'
Her face fell. 'Did anyone else know?'
Neville shook his head. 'Yes,' he murmured. 'I knew and from what you told me, Albus knew and Susie knew.'
'Susie?'
Neville's eyes darkened. 'Susan Bones. My wife. She died in the fire at Hogwarts.'
'Merlin,' she whispered. 'Neville, I'm sorry I-'
He shook his head. 'No,' he murmured. 'You have nothing to be sorry about. You didn't kill her. You didn't lead us into the castle and leave us there unprotected. That was all Weasley.'
She shivered at the way Neville spoke Ron's name. There was such a level disgust that it broke her heart. This was what the war was going to do to them.
That is if Harry and her ever made it back to their time.
'So we,' she paused and corrected herself. 'You and me were close?'
'Yes,' he replied. 'Potter pretty much kept to himself. We were friends once, but this war changed a lot of that. And when Albus died, it was as if his burden grew. Every once in awhile, especially when the two of you were together, shades of the old Harry would come out.'
'Were we having an affair?' She blurted out, the words finally escaping from her lips.
'You could never stay away from each other,' he recounted fondly. His expression darkened. 'He fought. You tried to hide it. Weasley was too stupid and too far in his own involvement in this war to notice. At one point, you were destroying each other. He was punishing you for being with Ron and you were punishing him for hurting you. No matter how hard you and him tried to avoid it, was inevitable.'
'So you helped us,' she concluded, her surprise written clearly on her face.
Neville shrugged. 'I didn't do it for Potter. I did it for you. You became my family. After my Gran was killed, you'd sit with me for hours. You made sure that I was comfortable and okay.'
He smiled wistfully. 'You and Susie saved my life.'
The information became a burden of bricks. 'Oh Merlin.'
'You were going to break off your engagement before Harry died,' he murmured. 'The two of you came to the conclusion that you had spent all those years lying to each other, that there was no point in continuing.'
'Except Harry- Harry-'
'Died,' he finished for her. 'Malfoy killed him. Took a knife and slit his throat open. And you killed Malfoy.'
He shook his head. 'You spent hours torturing him with Crucio and then finished it with the Killing Curse. You finished the last few lines of the spell that night, as if you knew you were going to die.'
She began to shake. None of the Unforgivable curses were performed effectively without an intense hatred. Harry and Ron had always said that she could never bring herself to do it. Her heart was far too big.
It frightened her to know what she had become.
'What the fuck are you doing in this room, Longbottom?' She stiffened at the sound of Ron's hard voice.
Neville's grip loosened and his arms fell back at his side. She watched with an immense sadness, as his eyes seemed to darken at the invasion of Ron in their conversation.
'I was talking to Hermione,' he murmured. 'You know, explain things that you had obviously forgot to mention. We were just going to head back to her rooms. Can never be too careful, you know? Someone might be killed.'
Ron stepped into the room and the air seemed to chill at his presence. Gone were the gray robes he wore when he had rescued Harry and her from Hogwarts, he wore black pants and white t-shirt. The scar on his face seemed to mock her as he entered the room and stepped closer.
'Ron seems to be a nice boy,' her father murmured.
She sighed, staring at the brand new ring on her finger. 'Daddy, I don't want to have this conversation.'
Her father sat on the bed beside her, wrapping one arm around her shoulder. 'Darling girl, everyone is afraid of loneliness. It is what makes us human. But it is even lonelier to force company upon yourself.'
Ron's eyes darkened. 'I'll take her back to her rooms, Longbotton. You need to take care of the inventory.'
Neville raised an eyebrow. 'Finished it two weeks ago. It's on your desk.'
'Don't make me pull rank, Longbottom,' Ron warned.
Neville sighed in defeat and brushed a kiss on her forehead. He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, 'We'll talk some more later. There is a lot you need to know.'
Hermione nodded and wrapped her arms around herself, watching as Neville headed out the room and flicked Ron off in an obvious disrespect of the other man's authority.
There is a lot you need to know.
She shook her head, biting her lip painfully. There was too much she needed to know. Some of it, things she knew that would break her heart.
'Couldn't sleep?' Ron asked stepping into the room and closer towards her.
'No,' she murmured. 'I'm sorry. I just got- I was lost and I found this...'
He shrugged. 'I closed it off after you died. Your mom made me promise that we'd have separate rooms until after the wedding. My mother was completely for the idea, although we did share quarters in Hogwarts. This is the first time I've really seen the inside of your room.'
Her eyes went wide. He had never seen the inside of her room? He had spent a lot of time in her rooms as Head Girl in Hogwarts, she remembered with a blush. Although they had never gotten as far as he had liked, they had shared a bed. Ron gave her comfort she had been seeking. Away from Harry. Away from the pain. Away from the memories of the one thing she could never have.
Ron had given her a false hope.
Her lips were trembling as she recognized the look in his eyes. As much as he looked like he was trying to hide it, she could see a sliver of hope. She knew he was expecting to hear her say that she was in love and loyal to him. She knew he wanted a reunion.
'I think this is some sort of punishment,' he whispered, he reached for a strand of her hair and wrapped around his finger and brought to his lips. 'Someone's mocking me.'
She swallowed and offered the only comfort she could give. 'I'm sorry for your loss.'
Her answer made her want to laugh. She was offering sympathy for her own death to a man that she should have known- she knew-
He laughed, a hoarse and hollow sound. 'It's okay. I can't imagine how strange this is for you.'
She smiled bitterly, the curve of her lips sending a painful ache through her nerves. She eased away from his partial embrace. 'I'm all right.'
His eyes seemed to darken. 'Let's get you out of here. How did you come this way?'
'I got lost,' she repeated, lying.
Ron seemed to believe her and nodded. 'I tried sealing her- your rooms- but my girl was always one step ahead of me. Ginny tried to go get some clothes for the funeral, but the door was sealed shut. It burned Ginny every time she tried to open the door.'
She shuddered at Ron's use of my girl. She had always hated when he used any word that would indicate a possession of her. She wasn't his girl, a small voice in the back of her head seemed to say. She was far from it.
'I haven't seen you this lost in a long time,' Ron murmured, startling her out of her thoughts. 'Not since your parents were killed.'
Her eyes closed. Perhaps, it was being in her room or the countless revelations she was being exposed to. But suddenly, she wanted to go back- back to Harry and the comfort, both painful and real that he offered. Harry understood. Not Ron. Not Neville. Certainly not Ginny, who Ron seemed to throw at her at every chance he got.
'We're going to be sisters!' The small redhead threw her arms around her neck.
Hermione forced a smile on her face and returned the hug, listening to the younger girl blubber in excitement.
'Everything is as it should be. You and Ron. And soon,' she said with a blush. 'Me and Harry.'
Hermione never wanted to hit someone so much as she wanted to right now.
'I can't wait,' she murmured.
'Let's go,' Ron continued offering his hand. 'We'll go get you something to drink and then I'll take you to your rooms. It's been a long day. You need your rest.'
Staring blankly at his offered hand, she forced herself to take it.
'I'll take care of you,' Ron whispered in her hair.
His arms felt like bricks and his breath made her nauseous. This is wrong, her heart screamed. Leave. Go. Don't do this.
'I'll make sure you'll forget him. We'll be happy.'
She took his hand.
It was the only thing she could do.
**