Chapter 3: Unable to Live in The Present
She stood there in the dark, her ears still ringing from the pounding sound they had received from the time turner experience. Her eyes were still closed, for she was scared of what she would see if she opened them. She did not want to see that her whole plan had failed, that the time turner was faulty, or that she hadn't turned it back enough times. Finally, she got a hold of her determination, and opened her eyes.
Gradually, they refocused on her surroundings, undistinguishable blurs becoming a chest here and a wardrobe there. Her heart was still pumping to the sound of its own drum, and her breathing was harsh and quick. She recognized the beds around her, internally naming each occupant as her gaze passed over each curtain.
She noticed that the one where she should have been laying was empty, at least she hadn't travelled too far back. She moved silently towards the door, trying not to make a sound, even if she would have to make quite an awful din to be overheard over Lavender's snoring.
Her hand hovered over the doorknob, and she stared at it with a mixture of paralyzing dread, and agonizing anticipation. Her mind was still feeling the after effects of the torture she had received in the last few hours, being drowned by so many emotions. And added to the slight spinning sensation that lingered after going back through time, it effectively clogged her brain so that it took three times more effort to analyze what exactly it was she was doing.
Hermione had gone back in time, to see Harry, more accurately to be with Harry, in a situation where she wasn't the only one able to respond. She understood that she would be breaking the most important law of time-travel: to not be seen. But all other thoughts and feelings of apprehension were overruled when it finally dawned on her that Harry was only metres away, alive and breathing.
Her before quivering hand grasped the doorknob with a newfound firmness, and she opened the door as fast as she could, while keeping the eerie creaking sound to a minimum.
Stepping out onto the low-lit landing, she took hesitant steps towards the common room, descending the staircase one by one. Slowly, the common room came into view, first the richly decorated carpets covering the wooden floors, then the tables and chairs dispersed around the room, and then the comfortable aging sofas and armchairs, surrounding the large still-lit fireplace, as if guarding it, and finally, the portrait hole could be seen at the other end of the room.
As the light from the fire still flickered unevenly, shadows were sent away from the fire, so that the warm air of the room was slightly dampened by the darkness encasing it. Her eyes scanned the sofas, remembering Harry's promise to be waiting for her while she was still in the library.
The reality of the situation somewhat overpowered Hermione, as she took in the fact that she was now in two places at once, the one belonging to this time still in the library, and the future one tip-toeing through the Gryffindor Common Room.
She spotted a mass of unruly dark hair protruding out from the top of one of the overly stuffed armchairs near the fireplace and her breathing hitched. Her brain went haywire when she recognised instantly who was seated there. And once again uncertainty and dread captured her, and her hands started trembling.
Was she really ready for this?
The question revolved around her, louder and louder, demanding an answer. She balled up her fists, and moved towards him, her presence still unnoticed, up until one of the floorboards beneath her creaked unmercifully.
Immediately the boy in the armchair turned around to see what it was, and upon seeing her, a big smile appeared on his face. He got up, and whispered her name, and slowly approaching her, with much more confidence in his step than her.
The sight of Harry Potter standing in front of her threatened to overwhelm her. Those startlingly green eyes, those shiny emerald orbs, staring at her with a new fire kindled behind them, amplified by the reflection of the hearth on his spectacles. She was utterly dumbstruck, the only change in her appearance being the widening of her eyelids.
Registering no change, Harry's brow creased slightly and his voice took on a worried tone as he asked if she was alright. Hermione failed to respond, her mind simply blown away by what was standing in front of her. He walked towards her, and reached out his arms to embrace her.
As soon as the tips of his fingers made contact however, she was jolted out of her coma-like trance and she pounced on him, her lips on his, releasing all the emotions she had stored inside her into that kiss. Initially taken by surprise, his arms still stayed horizontal, clutching at thin air, but he quickly regained himself and one hand shot up to her mass of brown curls whereas the other concerned itself with travelling up and down her spine, efficiently sending shivers coursing through her whole body.
Hermione's hands were framing Harry's face, but keenly buried themselves in his dark hair, pulling him even closer into the kiss. She almost instantly deepened it, needing to taste him after so long, even if it had been but a few agonizing hours. She was dependant on it, it was her addiction. In fact, through all the horrors she had been through that the war had caused, she belatedly understood that on top of being the love of her life, he had become her drug, her escape from the evil that constantly surrounded them.
She broke away and trailed kisses down his jaw to his neck and kissing his collarbone, while unbuttoning his nightshirt. She would not waste a second of her borrowed time with him. He showed apprehension, and grasped her shoulders and held her at his arms length away, silently questioning her with his eyes. She didn't need to summon anything for the look of profound desire and need that shone in her own gaze.
He seemed to accept it and started working on her sweater. She smiled and pressed her lips on his once more, then pushed him towards the opposite wall, slamming him as gently as she could in her passion against the wall, while unbuttoning the last of his shirt. He let out a muffled groan and she felt him smile against the kiss, and he dropped the sweater, that he had somehow removed without breaking them apart, on the floor near them.
But his hands did not go to her shirt, instead both grasped her behind firmly and hoisted her up, leaning forward into her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck to keep balanced. She lifted her legs, her body now fully supported by his strong arms, put her feet against the wall behind him, and pushed, with her legs sending them flying backwards, so that somehow they landed on a sofa, and Harry's body crashed onto hers.
They both groaned slightly at the unexpected fall, but it only accelerated their movements, so that their hands roamed all over the others body, and the heat between them seemed to grow more and more as the seconds went by. They kicked off their shoes, and Harry copied Hermione's move from before, and followed her jaw to her neck then to her collarbone, and going lower, to where his unbuttoning had given him extra access. Hermione's eyes were still closed and her mouth open, her breathing deep and fast.
It was just as Harry returned to her lips, with even more passion if it was possible, that the moment was obliterated as a wail was heard from the direction of the portrait hole.
Both their hearts stopped, and he leaned up and turned around immediately. But Hermione did not need to look at what had made the sound. She knew who it was, she could remember it so vividly now when she had said the words hours ago. Harry turned back to her, a frown etched deep in his features, a look of deep confusion set in his gaze, and she knew he could not understand what was happening. She looked at him, and as a single tear rolled down her cheek, she told him to leave, to go after the Hermione that was now running down the castle towards the lake.
He strangely obeyed without contestation, and ran out of the common room, chasing after her. The future Hermione was still lying on her back on the couch, as the worst realisation of her life washed over her, completely freezing her insides, and she felt as if she was being compressed from all around, her heart being crushed as if a box was tightening around it.
It was because of her. She caused it all. She had been the girl whom Harry had been with. Harry was cheating on Hermione with Herself, but from another time. The irony threatened to push her over the edge, and she felt like she couldn't breath anymore. But it was not over, not only was she the cause of her own pain, she was the cause of Harry Potter's, the Chosen One's death.
He had followed her out of the castle to try and explain, explain something that she unknowingly had caused, and because of her, he had escaped the safety of the castle, and had been captured and killed by Voldemort.
It was all her fault.
Her breathing slowed down to a fraction of what it should normally be, her will to live slowly crumbling away under the pressure of the emotions presently suffocating her. And once again, within a relatively short period of time, she sought refuge, refuge from this deluge threatening to destroy her.
She got up, her body shaking violently all over, and focused her energy on moving her legs towards the window. She stood by what she always affirmed: she could not live without Harry. And so, now that once more he was taken from her, she had no choice. Her mind was made up, and she would not continue in this empty shell of a life without him.
She approached the glass window, opened it, and stepped onto its edge, her hand attached to the side of the window, and leaned out, gazing into the dark beneath her. She could not see very far, a big black emptiness beneath her. But she realised that is was actually the lake, because she could see the reflection of the moon on its tranquil surface, like an eternal mirror of the night. She could see the beam of light escaping through the window reflected in it.
She was cold, the night air assaulting her thin clothing, making her shiver. It didn't help that she was afraid of heights.
She took a deep breath, looked towards the edge of the water, where she knew she would appear any moment now, and let go.
The wind assaulted her from below, and she kept her gaze fixed on the path that her past self would soon run down, while enjoying the freedom she felt as she plummeted through the air. She felt rejoiced, because finally she was getting an escape from the hell she had experienced in the last hours of her life, and because she would soon be reunited with her love.
She spared a thought to the rest of the world. It was doomed, without their prophesized hero, there was no way for them to escape the dark cloud slowly engulfing the English magical world. She thought of Ron, who would have to face losing his two best-friends in one night, and she wondered if her body would be found, or would they all search for her.
Yet it all seemed unimportant to her now. The problems people would face seemed so simple, compared to what her mind was still gearing to comprehend. Never mind, she wouldn't need to think any longer, she would be back with Harry, and the wizarding world would heal in time.
A smile managed to escape her lips just before her body crashed down onto the black mirror that was the lake, shattering it along with herself, and escaping to the other side of it, into the other side of reality, the next great adventure someone had once said.
The last thought she had before it all ended for her was that of her only love, her hero, her drug, her reason for living. Her Harry.
[A/N: Well there it is, the end, the sickeningly ironic end to my fic. Hope you guys noticed the coherences between the first and last chapter, i.e. the part where she sees a splash in the water, not yet knowing it was herself. You'll also notice I didn't use any dialogue, I wanted to try out not using any, for a more intense spotlight on the actions. Anyway, I hope you guys liked it and thank you all for following this story.]