A Time Before Tears

Chapter 13

Almost The End

Two weeks had passed since she had come back to her time and Hermione didn't feel any better about it. The Christmas break had passed and Hermione soon found herself back in the schedule she had been sure she would never fit into again, but somehow she managed it anyway. The classes were much simpler, much different, much quieter, and much less funny- actually everything seemed that way.

While she was eternally grateful to be back with Harry and Ron, it felt awkward to walk with just two other people again. It felt odd not have a constant fear nipping at the back of her heart. It felt odd that there were no public announcements of another Voldemort attack. It felt odd that the front page of the paper was talking about something other than Death Eaters. Hermione felt odd.

Harry and Ron tried their best to be sympathetic, but they could not do it. It wasn't that they just didn't really understand what had happened. They thought it had something to do with the fact that McGonagall had been hurt while Hermione had been there. They thought Hermione blamed herself. She couldn't bring herself to tell them the truth.

Each day that passed was too slow for Hermione. Every time she looked at Harry, her eyes began to water. She found herself staring at him sometimes and trying to find the pieces of Lily and James she knew were there. She saw them often in the way he walked, the way he talked, his independence, his mystery, his power, his care, his voice, and most especially: his eyes.

It was draining every bit of her energy out of her, keeping this locked up inside of herself, and yet she had no idea how she could fix that. Hermione was too tired to think of a way to correct the problem. She was too tired to think, to move, to try, to cry, to talk with the people she called family.

She felt the gap between herself and Ron growing daily. He kept trying to take her hand in his and she kept snatching it back, thinking that she was somehow betraying Remus. It didn't matter that Remus would be nearly twenty years older by now. It didn't matter that he had probably moved on years ago- she had been completely and utterly in love with him not two weeks before and that didn't just go away because she happened to have time traveled past him.

The differences between Ron and Remus were burned into her memory. Whenever Ron reacted one way to something, Hermione thought about how differently Remus would have handled it. But it didn't stop there. She compared everyone she saw with the people she knew from the past, just like she looked at Harry to see Lily and James. She saw Neville stumble in a corridor and thought back on his mother who had been a year ahead of Lily and James. She had been elegant and graceful. What would Neville have been like if there had never been any Voldemort?

She looked at people she did not even know and tried to place their parents. When she did, she often looked at them in a new way, knowing what they had to grow up with. The person who she saw in the most different light was Draco Malfoy, ironically.

"Look at that boys," Malfoy commented to Crabbe and Goyle in Potions one day. "Weasley can't even get himself a half-decent whore with respectable blood. He's stooped so low as to go for a Mudblood."

Ron lunged at him as Harry grabbed his shirt. Hermione did not react at all, having been called worse things only a month before. All she could think was, 'I met your mother Malfoy. She and Lily were good friends. They often ate breakfast together. Did you know that? Did you know that she and Harry's mum were friends? Did you have any idea?' Then she turned back to her potion, not even a little angry with Malfoy for his comments.

Out of everyone she had known before, Draco was the one person whom she would never have imagined would change, and he hadn't. She had.

Every time he said something horrible, Hermione had flashbacks to the way Narcissa had laughed with Lily over their inside joke about bananas that Hermione never got. Each time he spat an insult about low lineage, Hermione thought about Narcissa asking Lily for help with her Charms work even though the blond was a pureblood and Lily was not. Every time Draco let his hatred for Gryffindor show, Hermione thought about the fact that Narcissa had been a Slytherin and Lily had been a Gryffindor. In those moments Hermione couldn't bring herself to hate Draco. She could only feel immensely sad that he seemed so ignorant of who his own mother was.

~*~*~*

Harry watched Hermione carefully. She noticed this, she was sure, only because she had learned to watch people in the seventies. She learned to watch their movements, their attachments, and their reactions. Harry's movements were as graceful as a Slytherin; he got that from Lily. He was attached only to his friends; he got that from James. His reactions to threats were instantaneous; he got that from Voldemort.

This was a good example of her thinking pattern. She would first consider the present, then she would relate it to the past, and finally tie it in with the Dark Arts. She didn't think it was healthy, but Hermione didn't know how to stop herself. She had changed a lot in those short months with the Marauders. Sometimes, when she wondered if she was just making up the entire journey, she would look down at her left hand and run her index finger over the scar that the fairy had left there during the Care of Magical Creatures incident. It was almost the only substantial piece of evidence that she had left.

Every day she felt the pang of failure. It hurt that she hadn't fixed anything, and she often found herself falling into a pit of self-doubt. Why hadn't she said something earlier? Why hadn't she forced Dumbledore to listen? Why hadn't she done SOMETHING?

This was worse than going back in time. Going back she never had to see the affects of her actions, she never had to heal broken hearts and promises, she had not been torn from a boy she was in love with. Going back had not killed anyone.

Hermione was thinking these thoughts a little more than two weeks after coming back when she finally broke down.

She was staring out the window, trying to fight back the tears that were already running down her cheeks when Ron interrupted the confusion inside her head.

"Are you all right Hermione?" Ron took her hand in his and when she realized that, she snatched it back.

"I'm fine. I just didn't do very well on an Arithmancy test today, and I have to study." She turned and picked up her books before heading out the door.

"Typical Hermione," she heard Ron comment as she headed out the door.

Even before she was out the door, the tears poured freely and strongly down her face. Hermione fell against a wall in a random corridor, as her legs couldn't seem to hold her up any longer. She cried as she remembered everything about the people she had left behind, the ones she would never meet again. As she cried images and descriptions flashed through her mind.

Sirius, the funny man to James' straight man, who had only spoken to her at the interhouse party because he trusted Lily and Remus, who watched most carefully over his friends' welfares, who had been the last to trust Hermione with his friendship, who hated only Snape, who jumped in front of an Unforgivable curse to save his best friend the pain, whom Hermione had seen kneeling beside his bed praying for Voldemort to be a bad dream.

Peter, the boy who mastered checkers in a single sitting and read Shakespeare because Noelle said it was worth it, who couldn't seem to understand why "baking" was a class at Hogwarts, who made Hermione laugh when the day was too bleak for laughter, who left his date at a ball to dance with a lonely friend, who should have grown up to be a knight in shining armour, who lost trust in Dumbledore too soon, who had cried for Noelle's brother.

Noelle, the girl who had fought for so long to not care about the world, the girl who cared the most, the girl who initiated pillow fights, who quietly hugged the victims, who could braid her own hair in record time, who often fell asleep without changing out of her day clothes, whose sarcasm scared even Severus Snape, who had lost her twin and been accused of killing him all in a single night, who eventually went on to others, and whose soul might someday be taken from her with an unwanted Kiss.

James, who hated no one, whose laughter filled Hermione's whole body and left her feeling light-headed, whose flying rivalled that of only one other person she knew, whose concern for friends rivalled only that same person, whose trust in his friends was unparalleled, whose eyes sparkled, whose friendship had led Hermione to believe in herself, who persuaded even Professor McGonagall to laugh, who befriended a Headmaster and a house elf in the same day, who created an absurd kiss counting game, who had known Hermione lied on that first day of Divination and had forgiven her for it almost immediately.

Valerie, the unaccounted for, whose anger could shake their dormitory, whose willpower could tame griffins, whose laughter was rare, whose tears seemed wrenched from her very soul, whose friendship was as fragile as glass and as strong as a diamond, whose trust was never earned, whose voice shrieked more than talked, who put her on the bed that fateful day, who looked progressively sicker as the months went by, who avoided Hermione towards the end of the stay, whose father died and whose mother abandoned her, whose hatred left her alone.

Remus, the boy who was older than his age, who always pulled out Hermione's chair for her, who danced with her for a whole night without pause, who would have danced with her forever, who fought himself at every turn, who loved her unconditionally, who she trusted to blindly lead her to the roof, who once turned an entire lake gold in answer to a challenge, who was a werewolf and never forgave himself for it, who lost his three best friends in a single night, whose story had convinced Hermione to talk with the Divination professor that day of the predictions.

Finally the image of a sixteen year-old redhead flashed in Hermione's mind and the tears that had been flowing so constantly suddenly turned into sobs that wracked her body.

Lily Evans who became Lily Potter was the type of girl who never seemed out of place. She was sixteen and held within herself more mystery and class than anyone Hermione had ever met. She had been one of the first faces Hermione'd see coming into that world- Lily who never questioned anyone, who danced Halloween night away and still found time to play on the Quidditch field, who performed spells more perfectly than anyone Hermione had ever known, who laughed easily, who gently let people believe they were part of her world, who befriended a boy no one else thought to, who worked so hard to make her friends happy, who saved her from a hooded figure in Hogsmeade. Her love was unconditional and unquestioned, and yet that same sweet girl knew the evil she was facing and fought it every day of her life. Who died because I couldn't save her!

They were a perfect group, a perfect couple, and I ruined it all. I couldn't even save them from dying!

It didn't matter to Hermione that most of them were alive, she knew the people she had known were dead. Peter was now the snivelling Wormtail. Sirius was now the sickly man who lived as a dog named Snuffles and waited for the day when he could live up to his best friend's expectations. Remus was now Professor Lupin, a tired man who bore no resemblance to the boy she'd known. Noelle was in prison. Valerie was missing...

"Miss Granger?" a sharp voice cut into her thoughts and Hermione didn't even bother to wipe away her tears as she turned around to face the stern looking Professor McGonagall, who upon seeing Hermione's state, took two steps forward. She had left the Hospital Wing the same day she was admitted. Actually, she said that Hermione probably saved her life by getting Dumbledore (who got there just moments after McGonagall had hit the ground). "What's the matter?"

"They're dead," Hermione choked out. There was a lump in her throat that was getting larger. It hurt. It hurt so much that Hermione thought she might die of it.

"What happened Hermione?" Her voice was crisp with fear and concern. Hermione just shook her head.

Professor McGonagall took two more steps forward and looked slightly embarrassed as she embraced the brunette. She took the student into her arms and held her tightly until the sobs subsided and all that was left was a girl too exhausted to walk.

"Did you fall asleep? Was it a dream?" The Professor asked quickly. Hermione just shook her head against the woman. "Hermione, if students are in danger you have to tell me about it. Otherwise I will not be able to help them."

"Lily and James are dead," Hermione whispered into her teacher's shoulder. "They never should have died."

"Hermione?" The woman pulled slightly away and looked at her student closely.

"I went back Professor. I went back in time when those spells hit me in Hogsmeade and I -" She couldn't continue.

"You only just got back," the woman said, exhaling, a look of understanding lining her severe face.

"And I didn't change anything professor! They're still died!" Hermione sobbed, still clinging to her teacher.

"You're mourning people who have been dead for fifteen years."

"Should that make it easier?"

"No," the professor admitted and hugged the girl tightly again. Hermione didn't look up again, but she was sure the older woman began crying.

If either had bothered to look around they might have noticed that they were in the same corridor that Hermione had cried in eighteen years before. In both instances, McGonagall took especially good care of her, but this time there was no James Potter running by, interrupting their talk. Now there was only the slight howling of the wind as it ran through the empty corridor.

~*~*~

It took nearly two hours before both women were calm enough to move; as they headed towards the Headmaster's office they both found themselves too lost in thought to try and communicate yet. Professor McGonagall said the password, but Hermione was too lost in her thoughts to realize what it was. She was too lost even to remember the trip between the entrance and the seat across from the Headmaster. She didn't even remember when it was that Professor McGonagall left, but she did remember hearing her discuss something with Dumbledore before she left.

He didn't speak to Hermione for a long while. In fact when she finally gathered the strength to wipe her tears away she saw that he was gazing steadily at her. She saw him now for the first time since she'd been back in her own time and instead of feeling immensely sad as she had in the seventies, she was overwhelmingly comforted by his face- old as it was.

"Hello, Professor," she began quietly.

"Miss Granger." He nodded.

"I'm so sorry, sir. I don't know why I didn't help them sooner. You loved them and I- I let them die." She refused to cry again. She refused and still a tear ran down her cheek.

"You did not let them die."

"I did. I knew what was going to happen and I couldn't stop it."

"No. You couldn't."

"I should have done something earlier."

"You told Lily." He knew that?

"I could have told everyone."

"And created mass hysteria?" Dumbledore was answering her outbursts in such a calm manner that she was shocked. "I knew where you had come from and I never asked you for information about the future. Do you know why?"

"How did you know?"

"Time travel has self-imposed security measures. If a person goes back as far as you did, their eyes will be destroyed. It is Time's way of stopping people from seeing what they never should. Madam Pomfrey saved your sight." Dumbledore looked kindly.

"Then why... Why didn't you ask me to help you?"

"You did everything right. You enlisted the help of the one person who could have helped you. I look around at how the world changed after you left and I have to say that it is an improvement. We had thirteen years of peace. Harry survived the killing curse-"

"And Voldemort came back last year."

"If you hadn't come back, can you promise me that he would be gone?"

"Yes-"

"No you cannot. According to Professor McDermott, he would have become immortal if you had not both gone and come back from 1972. She mentioned that she showed you proof. She proved that Lily would have gone to his side and she would have made him undefeatable."

"Lily would never have turned," Hermione said angrily.

"I would have once said the same thing about Noelle Lestrange and Peter Pettigrew." Without a thought to what she was doing, Hermione was on her feet, wand drawn and pointed at the Headmaster's head. He didn't even blink.

"Do not compare Lily Evans to those scum," Hermione hissed.

"She never thought she was powerful or important. She would have turned because she would have been forced to choose between doing so, or allowing a friend, you, to die, and she would not have seen how it could hurt anyone but herself. She would have gone to save her friend. You know that." Hermione's wand slowly dropped to her side as his calm voice washed over her and tears ran down her cheeks. Lily loved Hermione enough that she would have given up her life to save her? Hermione did not think she deserved that.

"She wouldn't have." He did not respond to her sentence and Hermione knew that was because she was wrong.

"She met with me because you suggested it. She stayed with James because you told her he loved her. It was when you left that she finally believed everything that you told her and decided to trust you. You saved Lily Potter."

"I'm not... I can't be that..."

"You are that important. You are that powerful. You saved us." It wasn't true it couldn't be.

"I didn't save them."

"You saved their son and the world. Maybe for you that is not enough, but for them that was all they wanted." He handed her a letter that he had been holding during the conversation. "A few weeks after Harry was born, Lily asked me to visit her. She was in bed, not very strong yet, and she gave me a letter for you and James' invisibility cloak. She said he was entrusting it to me."

"This is from Lily?" Hermione asked, staring at the letter.

"Yes. She said that she could not remember writing it or addressing it, but she knew I had to be the one to give it to you, if I ever saw you again."

"Okay," was all she could manage to say before she turned and left.

~*~*~

Hermione,

I hope that you remember me when you read this letter. I hope that I am alive and kicking, and we can laugh over this silly letter together someday, even if you think of me as nothing more than the mother of your best friend, but I think we both know that won't happen.

It's a little odd for me to be writing this letter now because I'm laying in bed next the crib, watching Harry sleep (that seems to be all that he does), and thinking about a girl I knew more than seven years ago who won't get this letter for another fifteen years... It is enough to boggle a person's mind. But you were always very smart. You probably understand this more than anyone else ever could.

I reckon I ought to get to the point sometime soon, oughtn't I? I'm writing because I remember a night all those years ago when I told you that I would never choose Harry over anyone. I told you that I didn't love him. I want you to know that I was lying. I was sixteen and foolish.

He's crying now and a vein in the side of my neck is about the burst because of the shrill sound but I don't care. I love him so much that I don't care if he does everything conceivable to drive me away, I will love him through it all. James is gingerly picking up Harry now (gingerly because James is trying very hard not to break the best thing he has ever made) and I am trying not to stare at the pair of them. James is singing (he's tone deaf) and Harry's still crying and the vein in my neck is pulsating and... I can think of nowhere else I would rather be right now.

This is enough for me. This is more than I deserve.

I miss my friends quite a bit. I wish that Peter and Noelle were here, but they aren't. Not really. Peter is going to come over for dinner tonight but I think he has already turned. He looks more and more tired every time I see him. Noelle writes to me only occasionally. She and Joseph have disappeared altogether. Valerie is always too busy to come by, running this way and that, doing whatever it is she does, and Severus isn't returning my owls... but even that is okay because I am still looking over and seeing James and Harry in the middle of my room.

I still have to name a Godmother for Harry. If you were here I wouldn't hesitate in naming you, but you aren't. So now I am going to have to choose between Valerie and Noelle. James picked Sirius immediately and I don't think he will ever regret that choice. I'm happy for him, but I am still left wondering about Noelle and Valerie. I know you said that Noelle would turn if she married Joseph but... I don't' know. All of the signs are there for Peter. He's acting suspicious. She and her husband are acting like they are in love...I know that the rest of your predictions came true (Binns died after sixth year) but you yourself said you didn't know what happened to her. Maybe your guess was wrong. I can hope so anyway.

James is still singing off key and Harry is STILL crying and I still don't care.

I don't know why you left or if you got back to your time. I hope you did. I hope I live long enough to see you again, but if I don't I wanted you to know that I told Remus you had no choice. I told him how much you loved him and everything. I said you didn't leave on purpose.

After Jessica Snape's death everything was a sort of blur for me. Suddenly you weren't there and she wasn't there and Severus was falling away from me and... I didn't even have time to really grieve for your passing. I miss you tonnes though. You were very down to Earth and kind. You'll make a fabulous friend for Harry (he deserves only the best so be sure that you find him a good wife as well because I don't think I am going to be there to do that for him). I don't think I am going to be there because I think I'm going to do something tomorrow when Remus comes over that I really shouldn't. I hope that you won't hate me for it. I hope that everyone will understand that right now I am choosing Harry over everyone else. I love him so much, Hermione.

I also wanted to tell you to trust Severus. Speak with him. Let him be the one that tells Harry about me. He knew me best.

Your friend forever,

Lily Potter (doesn't that look perfect by the way?)

~*~*~

"Expect a test. Soon," the Potions Master said, ending his class of Gryffindors and Slytherins.

Everyone scrambled to collect their belongings first. Harry and Ron, in particular, had to get to Divination earlier than normal because the professor had hinted at a new form of fortune telling which meant she would be testing them on the old method. Only Hermione didn't move. She didn't even clean up the ingredients on her desk. Not that anyone noticed. Hermione had become a master at blending in, so she remained sitting quietly in the back of the room staring at her hands that were neatly folded on the desk. A folded piece of parchment was laid upon the top of her books, but she didn't so much as glance at it. Only after everyone had left did she dare to look up. Snape's cold, black eyes were all that met her gaze.

"What do you want?" he asked unfeelingly. It took everything inside of her for Hermione not to turn and leave. It took every bit of self-control in her body to meet his eyes.

"I need you to forgive me," she choked out, knowing just how pathetic she sounded.

"For what?" he replied in that same dead voice. She nodded.

"I need you to forgive me more than I need Remus or Sirius to, more than I need even Harry to. I need you to forgive me almost as much as I need Peter to." Hermione was holding back her tears as images flashed across her minds' eye.

They were all sitting at the Gryffindor table at dinner. Peter was sitting to the right of James and slyly tapped James' left shoulder without his noticing. James turned and Peter threw a piece of pie at his head, never pausing in his dialogue with Remus. James whipped around and tried to figure out who it was. Peter pointed to Remus, who pointed to Sirius, who pointed to McGonagall, who glared at them all.

"So you went back?" Her professor's voice jogged Hermione out of her memories. She nodded. "And now you want me to forgive you?" She nodded again. "Why?" She looked at the man that had gone through the worst a war can create.

"For everything I did and didn't do," Hermione said.

"You want absolution for everything you did and did not do." He sneered. "Then what? You'll just forget it all? Forget that you drove a wedge into lifelong friendships and sent an innocent man to prison? Forget that you didn't stop a spy, a murderer, and too many others to count? Is that what you want girl?"

"I don't want to forget it." She felt as small as a mouse.

"Do you remember telling me about Samuel Quirrell?" He abruptly changed the subject. Hermione nodded. "You gave me a chance to repay a debt that I could not have repaid. You sent help for me with the werewolf. You brought together the only two people that had a chance to stop Voldemort. You told me when to turn to Dumbledore." Hermione didn't know what to say. She didn't know what he was saying,

"I didn't -"

"Back then you knew everything and helped only me. Now you know nothing and can't seem to shut up. That is ironic."

"I shouldn't have come," Hermione began to pick up her things. He didn't say anything to stop her until she was done and ready to head out the door.

"You do not need forgiveness from me."

Hermione looked at this man and saw the boy that he had once been- the boy who had danced with Lily Evans on Christmas Eve as though it were all he ever wanted to do. Severus Snape wasn't even facing her, and yet she found herself understanding why Lily loved this man and she could not have explained that, or what she did next, to anyone. She ran forward and threw her arms around his back.

She had hated this man for six years. He would make her hate him again occasionally, she was sure, because he tormented Harry and shamelessly favoured his own students, and yet somehow he had become a permanent fixture in Hermione's life. He was frustrating and unhappy, but every time Hermione thought about him she did not see him as a menacing professor but rather, she saw him as the boy who had walked shamelessly over to the table of the house he hated most and, in front of the entire school, embraced a girl who had been born to Muggle parents while opening crying for his lost sister.

"You're the only one with enough knowledge to forgive anyone," she said aloud. In her head she thought, 'you held onto a feud with Sirius for twenty-five years because you were too lost to know who else to blame. You hide in a dungeon so you don't have to face the world and you do all of this because Voldemort recruited only the best and, of those men, only the best turned back.'

His long fingers pried her off him and turned around to face her. She backed away and stood in front of him, pleading for him to believe her because he wasn't evil. He was strong.

"James Potter might disagree with you about that."

"Why do you hate him? You were never interested in Lily like that. It isn't like he stole her from you."

"No, but if I hadn't erased your memory you would know that he promised me she would not be hurt. His arrogance killed her. If he had just listened to Dumbledore when he suggested me as the Secret Keeper, none of this would have happened."

"You? Dumbledore suggested you?" Hermione didn't get it at first, but then she remembered the headmaster's words from all those months ago. Severus Snape would do anything to protect Lily Evans. Dumbledore had really and truly believed that.

"Yes, and Potter idiotically believed himself smarter than Albus Dumbledore, trusted Pettigrew and killed Lily."

"You blame James?" Hermione couldn't believe her own ears.

"Of course. Who else would I blame?" Hermione shook her head, unable to respond in a coherent fashion.

"Why do you take it out on Harry?"

"He is a duplicate of his father, stupid and hard-headed, trusting too quickly."

"Lily's son is kind and considerate and powerful." Hermione shot back at him. Severus Snape rounded on her.

"He is not her son. He knows nothing of her." So it came back to this again, the same argument he used for James when they had spoken in that half-hidden room.

"So tell him about her."

"What?" He seemed shocked. Hermione thought it might have been the only time she'd ever seen him look like that.

"Tell Harry what Lily was like. No one else really can. You were her closest friend." He stared at her for a long while, not seeming to have heard her. She tried again. "Lily cried for your sister." His sharp intake of breath gave Hermione only a slight indication of his shock.

"She cried for your sister and for that you owe it to her to tell her son everything you can about her." He met her gaze and in his eyes Hermione found her absolution.

"Get out."

"Read this," she said, handing him a duplicate of Lily's letter from Dumbledore. He took it quietly and said nothing else to her.

She paused only a moment before deciding to let it all go and agreeing that he didn't need to say she was forgiven, that he didn't need to say anything wonderful about Harry. But just as she was about to leave, a thought came to her.

"I got top marks in Potions, there you know," she stated as she picked up the things she'd dropped onto the floor earlier. "I was better than everyone else in my house by miles."