Possibility
Well you'd like to think that you were invincible.
Yeah, well weren't we all once before we felt loss for the first time?
Well this is the last time.
Dashboard Confessional - The Brilliant Dance
---
It's much too early. He can tell by the blueness of the morning light piercing the gaps in the drapes.
He slowly rolls over, curious to see if his wife ever made it to bed the night before. She began her annual breakdown the night before - the beginning of what he'd come to think of as 'the day of no comfort.' Ironic that the one thing that truly brought them together - that held them together these last fifteen years - was most likely the thing that would tear them apart.
He sees her, curled on her side and tightly clutching a pillow in her sleep. Her brow is furrowed and she looks anything but peaceful. The intensity of her expression tells him that under any other circumstances she'd have been awake by now, but the firewhiskey seems to have formed a heavy blanket over her, forcing her to remain unconscious.
He gives a defeated sigh as he leaves their bed, the ghost of another man palpable between them.
The sooner he leaves, the better.
***
'I'm coming back! Nothing in this world will keep me from you Hermione, I swear it!'
'Oh, Harry...'
He kisses her like it's the end of the world.
Their foreheads are touching and his thumbs are softly stroking her cheeks. She looks up at him.
'I'm coming back, if only to kiss you like that again,' he murmurs, then he smiles at her. She smiles back through her tears and he suddenly wraps her in a fierce hug.
'Come back to me Harry...'
Then she's alone - desperately alone.
Hermione woke with a start, startled to feel the fresh tears on her face. She'd been crying in her sleep again - not surprising, given what day it was.
She sat up in her bed, then closed her eyes in an attempt to quell the pounding of her head. She took a deep breath, recalling the last wisps of her dream. She could still feel him, the memory of a kiss from fifteen years ago still bitterly vivid.
She'd had too much to drink again. It always happened on this day, and she allowed for the weakness. She rubbed her eyes, reluctant to face the reality of the day before her. She wanted to go back to sleep, back to him, but it was too late... it was always too late.
Glancing to the other side of the bed, she noted that Ron had already gone. No real surprise there; he always left as early as possible on this day. She felt a twinge of guilt at how her actions last night must have hurt him, the way she hurt him every year. They both knew the truth of it - as much as they needed each other on this day, it was always when they were furthest apart. She let the harshness of her words to him the night before sink in. It was unfair to him, they both knew it, but what else was there? What else could there ever be?
Ron - dear, sweet, best friend Ron. One of three. Who else could ever understand like he did? They had shared in the most profound of friendships and suffered an unimaginable loss. Now they only shared an unspoken guilt - their marriage borne from comfort rather than desire, friendship rather than true love.
She did love him, though - had always loved him. He was her best friend. But she had never been in love with him, and they both knew it.
Harry.
It was always Harry.
It would always be Harry.
They lived for Harry now, for all he sacrificed for them. She excelled in her teaching position at Hogwarts, desperate to influence young minds and help instill the values that would help prevent another war from ever happening. Ron pursued a career as an Auror, giving up his dreams of playing professional Quidditch. He worked as hard as ever to help prevent another Voldemort from ever gaining power.
He told her once it was his way of honoring Harry. In her darker thoughts, she merely sees him as a cold and pale imitation. A constant reminder of what they'd truly lost.
Those harsh and bitter thoughts always seized her on this day. Recriminations and doubts and fears about what she could have done, what they should have done differently. These thoughts tease and torture, condemn and maim. Last night the worst had come to her.
What if he had never really loved her at all?
She swipes at her face and quickly gets out of bed, running towards the bathroom. She retches miserably into the toilet, hoping the sickening thoughts will leave her body along with the remnants of her last meal. She crumples backwards against the wall, gasping in great sobs. The guilt and fear and shame are relentless.
What could have been? That way lies madness...
It will be another hour before she's able to slowly pick herself up off the floor.
***
"Professor Granger, it's an honor."
Taking his name would have made her a traitor.
"This is Simone DeClerque; she'll be accompanying you."
She's shaken from her reverie. This place brings back too many memories - too many bad memories. Hermione gives the young official a ghost of a smile.
"Thank you."
"If you'll follow me, Professor," the older woman gestures towards her. Hermione numbly follows.
It was seventeen years ago when she last followed this path. She'd been too preoccupied to notice the significance of today's scheduled trip. Had she realized sooner what day it had been, where she'd be going, she would have rescheduled immediately. But given the delicacy of the matter, it was nearly impossible. She had a duty to perform, and it had been her idea in the first place. It wouldn't do for her to shirk her responsibility now, simply to sit at home and cry.
She stood in the lift with Simone DeClerque, slowly descending into the bowels of the Ministry of Magic.
"Professor, if I may - I just want to say that it truly is an honor. I've followed your career for quite some time." The older woman's voice is soft and not nearly as intrusive as the dozens of passersby who feel the need to say something whenever she is out in public.
They exit the lift and head towards the door... a sudden stab of phantom pain in her shoulder. Another wound coming back to haunt her.
Her pulse quickens as they grow closer to their destination. Each room brings another flash of memory - another memory of Harry.
She'd failed him then as well.
One more door and they'd arrived. An almost comical scene plays before her and she's surprised at how quickly her rational side can assume command.
"You never fixed it?"
"There was no need. We find it serves as a brilliant illustration."
The cabinet continues to fall and shatter, then rebound and repair itself.
"You know, Professor, I found the request from your school most intriguing. The fact that there is another student worthy of such a responsibility is most impressive."
A flicker of a smile plays across Hermione's face.
"You may not know this, but it was I that retrieved your original time turner for Professor McGonagall. She was quite adamant that you were truly capable of handling the profound responsibility of time."
Hermione blinked in surprise. Surely this woman was no older than her early forties. That would have to make her one of the youngest Unspeakables in history.
Simone DeClerque laughed, clearly able to read Hermione's thoughts as they played across her face.
"Professor, I assure you, I'm not as young as I look, but I thank you for being surprised."
Hermione blushed.
"When your Headmaster and Professor McGonagall lobbied the Ministry on your behalf, there were many issues to take into consideration. We had to make certain that you could handle such a responsibility, and your exemplary record to that point was evidence enough of that. Your thirst for knowledge, tempered with a maturity and brilliance beyond your years was the determining factor. We had hoped that you would have enough discipline and strength to use the time turner accordingly, without abuse. I must say, we were quite surprised at your diligence. You know, we've always wondered... the few students whoÕd been given such a responsibility before you also used the time turner to rest, yet you never did. Why is that?"
It seemed a lifetime ago - trying to squeeze two years' worth of subjects into one. She had never thought to use the time turner to sleep. It seemed frivolous somehow, resting on borrowed time.
"I was told to strictly use it for additional lessons. I didn't want to abuse the privilege."
Simone smiled.
"Ah yes, quite true. I'd forgotten how black and white rules can be to the young, especially those who choose to burden themselves with so much responsibility." Simone shook her head.
"However, it was quite refreshing to see you bend those rules for the greater good. I could scarcely believe it when I'd first heard what you and... well, what the two of you had done."
Hermione flushed. She wanted to pretend she had no idea what this woman was talking about. But as she looked at her, she felt no need to lie. It would be pointless.
"There are some things more important than rules, especially when it comes to fixing something that is completely unjust. And, as I recall, we weren't seen. We didn't break any laws per se."
Simone DeClerque laughed, and her amusement filled the room.
"Oh, dear me, but that's a brilliant answer! And I must say I'd expect no less of you, Professor. Your exploits are legend amongst my peers. Your creative interpretations and relentless logic are highly revered."
"I... I hardly think..." She could think of nothing else to say as Simone eyed her appreciatively.
"Er, thank you."
"My pleasure, Professor. As I intimated, we hold you in the highest esteem."
Simone turned from Hermione and withdrew a fine silver chain from her neck. She stepped forward and encircled Hermione, the action beckoning more bittersweet memories. A small pendant hung from the chain, and Simone nimbly worked her fingers on the spinning dials.
"It's necessary to stop time for access," she explained.
The crashing and rebuilding slowed, then stopped altogether. Simone lifted the chain from Hermione, then proceeded towards the cabinet.
"Hmm, silver or gold do you think?"
"I hardly think it matters. I'm certain my pupil won't mind. Boys that age are hardly ones to worry about accessorizing," she attempted some levity.
"True. Silver it is then. Better to match those Ravenclaw robes."
She placed the time turner in a small jewelry case, then presented it to Hermione. An almost wistful smile played across her face as she took it. How different would age thirteen have been if she knew then what she knew now?
"Thank you, Ms. DeClerque."
Hermione dropped the package into her cloak, then made to leave before remembering that she was in stopped time. She'd have to wait for Simone to rejoin the rest of the waiting world.
"It's no small responsibility, time."
Hermione looked up, only to find Simone rummaging through the cabinet again.
"No... no. I suppose it isn't."
"And you are one of the few who would truly know." Her back was still to Hermione.
"Well, yes, I suppose that's true." As fascinating as this woman was, Hermione was anxious to leave, to return to her grieving before another year began.
"Professor," Simone began, "are you familiar with the saying, 'good things come to those who wait'?"
"Of course. It's an old muggle saying."
"Of course," Simone had stopped rummaging. She turned around, another small box in hand.
"Professor, as I mentioned before, my colleagues and I have followed your career...you, rather closely. And we all hold you and your husband in the highest regard."
Hermione flushed slightly again, Simone's words seeming more weighty than the passing praises she heard from others.
"You see, when we initially agreed to give you a time turner of your own so many years ago, we had the normal doubts and concerns. And I must say, we were thoroughly impressed with how you held the responsibility. Your character far surpassed our expectations when you decided to help Sirius Black and the hippogriff Buckbeak. Your Gryffindor courage surpassed your strict interpretation of the rules, and you did what was just, rather than what was in keeping with the rules. You showed more courage and fortitude than wizards twice your age."
She slowly traced the edges of the box in her hand.
"You and your husband have suffered. There isn't a wizard in the world who doesn't know that. But while others have grieved and moved on, you still bear the burden of guilt - will always bear that burden."
Hermione could feel the prickle of hot tears threatening to spill.
"You were so young... all so very young. The responsibilities you chose to bear helped save the world, at a great and terrible personal cost."
Tears slipped down Hermione's face. There were no words.
"There are those of us... those few of us, who feel you should never have suffered as you did."
Hermione's breath hitched as she struggled to retain her composure.
"Professor...," her voice softened, "you taught us once, that justice should far outweigh blind obedience, particularly when lives are at stake."
Hermione's head shot up. She looked at Simone, fear consuming her - fear of hoping for the impossible.
She couldn't mean...?
Don't think it... it's too painful!
Simone reached out and took Hermione's hand. She placed the second box in her open palm.
"It was unfair that you had to suffer as you did. Your burden was too great for children so young." Simone closed Hermione's hand over the box.
"Possibility, Professor, and now opportunity. The choices are yours." Her voice was reverent as she slipped the chain around them again and restarted the timeline. The sound of the crashing cabinet made Hermione jump.
***
A/N - The lovely story of 'Fragments' was originally a one-shot, created by the fabulous Goldy, apparently for the express purpose of ripping everyone's heart out and squashing it into sticky bits. So me (Demosthenes), being the arrogant little pain in the ass that I am, decided I was going to find a way to set it right (I have a history of meddling with Goldy's toys). And, thankfully, she let me (this time). Hence, 'Possibility', and the chapters soon to follow...
So read - review - show the love! You know you want to!