Time in a Bottle

TIME IN A BOTTLE

CHAPTER 7

~*~

"Potter..."

Severus Snape winced and screwed his eyes shut, not trusting what he saw. There was no way, he feverishly assured himself, that the boy had run out in the middle of Hermione and the Dark Lord. He couldn't possibly by that daft.

"Voldemort," he heard a voice spit out in response.

Opening up his eyes, he mentally groaned.

Apparently, the boy was that daft.

Severus shot Albus a discreet look and instantly knew by the older wizard's appearance that he, too, was at a complete loss for what to do.

On one hand, there was foolish Potter who, in Severus's mind, seemed to have some sort of hero complex. Potter had been the one wild card in their plan. No one had known what the Dark Lord's reaction would be if he saw the Potter boy, and in Severus's opinion, they could all do without finding out; but now, due to Potter's complex, they would all be forced to deal with a potentially fatal disaster.

And on the other, there was Hermione. He had promised to protect her, and yet he was doing a dismal job at it. All he could do was watch while she had verbally spared with Voldemort, carefully wiping the pride he had felt off of his features. She had quite effectively matched his cutting remarks with her own equally acerbic ones, and Severus had swelled with pride at her being able to hold her own.

But at the same time, he had felt restless. There wasn't much he could do to help her without breaking his cover. He had been forced into a position of spectator.

And so, he resigned himself to continue watching in fascinated horror.

"Harry, what do you think you are doing?" Hermione accused, her voice full of fear for her best friend.

Harry briefly glanced at her before returning his gaze back to the Dark Lord. "I'm protecting you, Hermione; just like I told you I would."

"How sweet," Voldemort hissed, his voice saying that it was anything but, "You seem to have moved on, Mya."

Hermione expertly side stepped Harry, lifting a mocking brow as she casually placed herself between the two glaring foes, lightly taunting, "Jealous?"

Voldemort snorted, sneering, "Jealous of the famous Harry Potter? Of course not, my dear. There is nothing to be jealous of; he's just a stupid boy trying to play hero."

Hermione's sarcastic voice rang out through the hall, "Of course, silly me. What I really meant to insinuate was that you are afraid of him."

Voldemort hissed, "Be careful, dearest. You are treading on dangerous grounds."

She gave a mirthless laugh. "Haven't I all evening, dearest," she drawled flashing him a smirk.

Severus Snape fought valiantly against the identical smirk that was itching to cross his apathetic features.

"What do we do now, Hermione? Shall we proceed with our duel since we were so rudely interrupted before?" Voldemort suggested in a seeming air of indifference.

Hermione cocked her head to the side. "Do you really wish to fight me, then?"

Harry responded before Hermione could stop him. "If he fights with anyone it will be me. Leave her alone, Voldemort. You've done enough to her already."

"Oh no, I don't think I've done nearly enough to her yet, Potter."

And for the first time that night, Hermione truly feared the man before her and what he was planning to do to her. And he was planning something, she knew; something decidedly evil if the mad glint in his eyes was anything to go by.

"Harry," Voldemort smirked, "you and I, we share something in common."

Harry glared at Voldemort as the latter took slow, calculated strides towards Hermione. "We share nothing in common," Harry growled.

Voldemort tsk-ed at Harry, even though his eyes were locked on Hermione's wide, fearful ones. Seeing her doe caught in the headlights expression, Voldemort gave a wicked smirk. "We've both been betrayed by the one person we never once doubted. Tell me, Harry; did Hermione tell you what I did when she told me the truth about where she was from?"

Harry's wand hand wavered a bit, but he confidently threw back, "She said you asked her questions, one right after the other as if you were trying to catch her in a lie."

"That I did, Harry, that I did," he allowed with a tilt of his head as he still continued to study Hermione's reaction, "But did she tell you what I asked her? There was one particular answer she gave me, Harry, which stood out..."

"N-no," Harry faltered, throwing Hermione a questioning look.

"I asked her, Harry, if she had any friends in her little future. And she responded in the affirmative, saying she had the two greatest friends anyone could ever hope for," he sneered as he quoted her exact words, "And do you know what I asked next, Harry?" he didn't even wait for Harry's response before he continued, eyes boring into Hermione's, "I asked her who these friends of hers were...not because I didn't believe her, quite the contrary, really..." he trailed off slightly before he finally snapped his eyes to glare at Harry, "And she answered me, Harry, saying 'Ron and Harry Potter'. Funny how she gave me your surname and not the Weasley's..."

Hermione's lip trembled as she looked over at Harry.

"Her-Hermione, is that true?" Harry asked, swallowing cautiously.

Hermione opened her mouth, breaking eye contact with him and staring incredulously at the floor as breathing became steadily harder for her as she repressed her tears. "I-I always used to tell my Muggle friends about you and Ron. And I-I," she swallowed to clear the lump in her throat, "I would always tell them about how funny and nice Ron was, but mostly about how brave you were, Harry, and how proud of you I was. I told them that I knew you wished you were never famous, but you bore it all with a grim smile. And they'd always ask, 'so you're friends with Ron and...Harry-who?' and I'd always say, 'I am friends with Ron...and Harry Potter'. You were always Harry Potter whenever anyone asked, Harry...I didn't know...I couldn't have known..." she trailed off, completely oblivious to the tears streaming down her cheeks.

Voldemort's face turned to stone at the sight of her tears, and his eyes flickered briefly when he looked into hers once again, even though he was still addressing Harry. "So imagine my surprise, Harry, when I got wind of a prophecy about myself and a person with the power to destroy me...and again, imagine my further surprise when I learned that the person could be one of two children, both born at the end of July. Either little Neville Longbottom...or baby Harry Potter."

"S-so you chose me over Neville because of Hermione; because you knew that I would be her friend and you wanted to hurt her," Harry realized in dawning wisdom.

"Two birds with one stone, so to speak," he confirmed viciously.

And no one could have known what was to come next.

Rage; unadulterated rage in its truest form clouded Hermione's vision, literally making her see red. With as much force as her small frame could muster, Hermione pulled her left hand back and slapped Thomas across the face, the stone from his engagement ring she had twisted around leaving an angry gash on his features.

"I don't give a bloody damn about some God forsaken prophecy; I'm going to kill you myself," she hissed as she watched him stumble back and blink in shock.

But she did not give him enough time to react before she then lunged herself at him, scratching, punching and hitting him with as much strength she could gather while he tumbled to the floor with her on top of him.

He tried to block her blows, but she was so furious, so angry that they were coming too quick. Without any other option, he grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her back, toppling her off of him with a well landed blow to her face.

Hermione fell back from Thomas and rolled a few paces away from the force of his strike. She lay on the cold stone floor, tears of hurt, betrayal and guilt streaming down her face as she remained motionless on the floor, heaving for air.

She had a rather nice view of the feet of the nearby students, and, much to her surprise and confusion, two of those feet stepped forward and Hermione felt herself being hauled up by firm, but caring hands.

"Ah, Severus, it's about time you decide to show your true colors...Give her to me," he ordered, gesturing with the hand that was not holding his cut.

Severus looked down at Hermione, absentmindedly sweeping her tears away into the palm of his hand. He gently soothed the bruising knot on her jaw from where Voldemort had hit her, and Hermione knew that he was most likely going to be killed for what he was about to do.

"No," his voice rang out, clear and completely steady.

Voldemort blinked, taken aback. "What did you say?" he said in a dangerous hiss.

Severus finally looked away from Hermione, keeping his arms locked reassuringly around her, while eyeing the Dark Lord in distaste. "Are you suddenly impaired by a hearing disability? I suggest you listening quite carefully, for I will not say this again: I told you no. Hermione is under my protection, and I will do whatever I must to ensure her safety."

"As will I," Harry announced, coming around to stand to Hermione's right.

"Me, too," called another voice, and the three were soon joined by Ronald Weasley.

"And I," came a fourth person, and quite a few people were shocked to see Draco Malfoy stand beside his Head of House.

"Draco? What do you think you are doing?" a sharp voice from behind a sneering white mask sounded.

Draco smirked at the Death Eater. "Well, father, I should think it to be quite obvious. I am renouncing your lord and beliefs and am pledging to protect Hermione."

"So this is where your loyalties lay," Voldemort sneered at Draco and Severus, "to a Mudblood Gryffindor?"

Severus looked down at Hermione and smiled; the first real smile Hermione had ever seen the man give. "Yes," he simply said, not even deigning to look at the Dark Lord.

"You," Voldemort hissed sinisterly as he fixed Hermione with a murderous glare. "You've caused this. Everything- it is all your fault. I will kill you for this, Hermione."

Severus pulled her slightly behind him, positioning himself between her and Voldemort's upraised wand. "How terribly clichéd," he remarked dryly.

"Go away, Voldemort, and never come back," Harry ordered, stepping forward to face the Dark Lord.

"Get out of this, Potter; for once, this does not need to concern you," Voldemort sneered, trying to get aim at Hermione.

Harry raised his wand. "I'm warning you, Riddle. You leave Hogwarts, and you never come back," he threatened ominously.

"Or what?" he jeered. "The great Harry Potter will vanquish me? You're not even out of school, yet; what can you possibly do to me?"

"I've beaten you before," Harry pointed out.

Voldemort narrowed his eyes, swinging his wand to Harry and vowing, "And you will never beat me again! Avada Kedavra!"

Only, Voldemort wasn't the only one that had shouted the killing curse.

Harry's wand emanated a brilliant green light that connected with the identical one radiating from Voldemort's. And, as Harry had known they would do, their curses connected, once again forming the golden link between them.

Only this time, Harry knew exactly what had to be done.

Pouring every last ounce of emotion and effort into holding the connection, Harry slowly willed his curse to inch forward, pushing both curses combined closer to Voldemort.

Harry's hand shook violently so he brought his other hand to steady his wand. He thought of every terrible thing this man had done to him, using the anger as a fuel. He murdered his parents. He stole Neville's parents. He killed Cedric. He hurt Hermione. He tried to turn him against his best friend. He stole Remus's only childhood friend.

He killed his Godfather, the only father Harry had ever known.

With a surge of emotion, the connection broke and Harry's curse pushed Voldemort's back onto him, combining with Harry's. Voldemort glowed eerily in the beautiful green light before falling to his knees.

Hermione took a step forward as if to help him, but was held back by a grim Severus Snape. She looked at the pained figure, shock, relief, and horror making her head spin.

And Thomas looked back at her. Not Voldemort, not the Dark Lord, but Thomas. For one brief, shining moment, she had her Thomas back.

"Mya," he whispered, right before he collapsed, his body limp and lifeless.

That was the last thing Hermione remembered before the darkness took over.

"You may ask me any question and I swear on pain of death that I will answer it freely and honestly," his silky drawl echoed in her ear as he twirled her around on the dance floor during the Yule Ball.

Hermione bit her lower lip thoughtfully, "Is Tom short for Thomas?" she asked lamely.

He chuckled in her ear. "Yes, it is. Come now, Hermione, you've been calling me Thomas since your first week here; I know that's not what you really wish to ask."

Hermione's eyes flickered up to meet his before she looked back down in shyness. "Why did you ask me to the ball?"

"Ah, well, that's quite simple, my dear Hermione. You are quite possibly the only witch residing in Hogwarts with the intelligence and wit to keep me entertained for more than five minutes," he confided while smirking at a nearby Hufflepuff couple.

Was that a pang of sadness she felt? "Is that the only reason?" She decided to question, trying to sound indifferent and merely curious.

Had she had found the courage to look up at Thomas she would have seen him give a rare, genuine smile, however small and brief it was. Placing two fingers under her chin, Thomas gently tilted her head back, forcing her to meet his eyes.

"No, Hermione, it isn't," he said softly.

Hermione's eyes widened only slightly before dipping close when his lips met with hers in a surprisingly soft, gentle first kiss.

Slowly opening her eyes, almost as if she was expecting to see Thomas still standing before her with that same small smile and light, chaste kisses, Hermione awoke to find herself, once again, confined to the Hospital Wing.

Another memory from a different time that seemed much further away from her than four days, she realized.

Sighing, Hermione sat herself up and swung her legs around to perch on the side of the bed.

"How are you feeling?"

Hermione looked up, not surprised in the least when she saw the now comforting visage of Severus Snape.

"Confused," she answered honestly as he slowly walked over towards her. "How did I get here?"

"I carried you," he stated.

"Oh," she managed, completely dumbfounded. "Uh, what exactly happened, then?"

Snape cocked a brow, tilting his head to study her in concern. "What exactly do you remember, Hermione?" He gently prodded.

Blinking curiously at the use of her given name, Hermione furrowed her brow as she thought back to the other night's events. "Harry's killing curse connected with Voldemort's, and then..." she cut herself off as the memory came flooding back, "Harry, is he-?"

"He's quite alright," he hastily assured her. "Tired and a bit weak, but he's fine."

She sighed in relief before quickly tensing up again. "Voldemort-?"

Snape looked at her quietly before saying, "Is dead, Hermione."

She felt as though a bludger had just smashed painfully into her chest. There was a heavy pressure pushing down on her and she was suddenly having trouble remembering how to breathe.

She sputtered, trying to suck in the air she needed, but the weight only pressed further down when she tried to breathe in.

Snape was by her side in an instant. "Give in to it, Hermione. Don't deny yourself your tears. It's alright to cry."

And then the dam burst, and Severus was there to catch her when she collapsed from the force of her sobs. She wept until every heart wrenching cry was torn from her throat, giving voice to a nameless, inarticulate grief.

And all the while, Severus calmly held her and soothed her with his mere presence.

When her sobs diminished into small hiccups, Hermione mumbled, her voice slightly muffled by Severus's shoulder, "Gods, you must think I'm utterly insane for mourning the death of the most notorious dark wizard."

Severus broke their embrace so he could catch her gaze, saying, "You are mourning the man Tom Riddle had the potential to be, not the man he actually became. There is no shame in that."

Hermione stared at him in wonder, something telling her that the man Tom Riddle had had the potential to become was a man an awful lot like Severus Snape. Neither black nor white, but a blended gray. Just like her.

"Thank you," she whispered.

The barest hint of a smile softened his features as he looked down at her and unconsciously returned his arms around her waist. "I'm not so sure I did much to deserve your thanks."

Hermione stared at him, feeling a strange rush of satisfaction when she felt his arms return to her. "You have done more for me than you'll ever know, Professor," she said softly, feeling shy around him suddenly.

"Severus," he corrected with his voice thick with emotion.

"Severus," Hermione said experimentally, smiling up at him.

Severus tightened his arms around her, silently vowing to do everything in his power to ensure that she'd always smile up at him in that mixture of warmth, affection, and tenderness.

And she did, for Severus Snape always fulfilled his vows.

~*~

I've looked around enough to know

That you're the one I want to go through time with