Never All Together

Chapter 8: Journey to the Past

In my time
I've lived and loved so much
Through each high and low
I let my heart be touched
In my time
There isn't much I've missed
I've seen love come and go
But heaven knows
I've never loved like this
In my time.

--- Michael Masser and Cynthia Weil (In My Time) ---

"How are we supposed to get there, Hermione?" Helena Granger asked nervously, smoothing her dress down.

Hermione held out the small urn that contained the Floo powder Harry had sent a few days before Christmas Eve. Along with it had been a note informing her that his father had temporarily connected their Muggle fireplace to the Floo Network.

"Just grab a handful of the powder, Mum, and step inside the fireplace. Drop the powder and shout Grimmauld Place!"

"Spell that for me, please."

"G-r-i-m-m-a-u-l-d Place. Grimmauld Place," Hermione pronounced one more time. "Make sure you speak the name of your destination clearly." Lest you get lost, she finished inside her head, not wanting to alarm her parents.

"Why don't you do it first, Hermione?" William Granger, her father, requested. "It will be more instructive for us to see how it's done."

"But I wanted to keep watch for you," Hermione protested. Besides, her stomach was still queasy at the thought of seeing James again, of having to act like he was nothing more to her than her boyfriend's father. She remembered that dinner that started everything between them. Was it really only three months ago?

William put an arm around Helena and smiled fondly at his daughter. "Don't worry, sweetheart. We'll be fine."

Hermione sighed and obliged them by taking a handful of the Floo powder. She stepped into the fireplace, sprinkled the powder on the floor and yelled, "Grimmauld Place!"

The elder Grangers blinked in surprise as they beheld their daughter being engulfed by the lively green fire.

"Bloody wizards," William uttered in amazement. "They sure find a use for everything." Beside him, his wife could not help but laugh.

* * * * * * *

It was almost dark.

Hermione stepped out of the fireplace, quite disoriented with the dim light after leaving her brightly lit living room. Her eyes gradually adjusted to the murkiness as she discerned a room so lavishly and exquisitely decorated that she could not help but wonder if she had arrived at the wrong grate. A large silk banner bearing Slytherin's symbol, frayed at the edges due to age, caught her eye. She walked towards it and gently touched it, comforted by the sight of something familiar. But wasn't Sirius in Gryffindor?

"Hermione."

She jumped back from the banner in surprise and looked towards the sound. The sudden hammering of her heart was enough to tell her that it recognized the voice that called her name, for it was the same voice she heard in her dreams, and yet nothing could have prepared her for seeing him again. Hermione felt weak at the knees; James gave off a striking impression, his stance strong and masculine, even when dressed in plain wizard robes. She almost felt ridiculous in her knee-length black skirt and lacy red top.

James, on the other hand, thought she looked adorable, dressed especially for the occasion. Nevertheless, he gave no outward indication of it. "Your parents?" he questioned indifferently .

"They might have been delayed due to some problems with the Floo powder. Muggles are not accustomed to travelling via fireplaces, you know," Hermione answered, her attempt at wit offset by her unnaturally high voice.

James gave a small nod. "We'll just wait for them then." He jammed his hands into his pockets and stared at the fireplace, waiting for it to erupt in flames. Hermione was also quiet beside him. He threw surreptitious looks at her, but she was too busy gazing intently at the fireplace as though it was yet the most interesting thing she had ever seen.

"Did you like the chocolates?" James asked out of the blue, surprising himself.

Hermione tilted her head ever so slightly as she considered him, scrunching her face up seemingly in an attempt to remember. "They were from you?" she asked, trying to act astonished.

James's forehead wrinkled. "Uh, yes," he replied, flustered and feeling stupid now. "Didn't you read the note?"

Hermione shook her head, making considerable effort not to smile. The arrogance of his face dissolved into something more boyish when he looked as confused and unsure as he did. "I did not know there was a note. I didn't see it. What did it say?"

"Nothing important." James pushed his glasses up his nose. "I just thanked you again for saving my life. The chocolates were a token of my gratitude."

"Was that all?"

"Yes." James went back to staring at the fireplace, wishing her parents would just step out of the fire right now.

"Are you sure?" Hermione persisted.

"Yes," he answered more firmly, still not looking at her.

How convenient. He forgot the part where he said he missed me too. Hermione shrugged. "Well, in that case, you were right. It wasn't so important after all."

James's frown deepened, but before he could say anything, the flames erupted in front of them. They watched as a female figure whirled inside for a few moments and then stepped out.

Helena glanced from her daughter to James, her clothes covered with soot but her face beaming. "I did it! I told your father it really was Grimmauld Place, but he just wouldn't listen to me."

"Did he do it first and get lost?" Hermione asked worriedly.

"Oh, no, sweetheart. After arguing for a few minutes, I told him I really should go first and show him how it's done. You know your father -- he always does what I say." Helena glanced down at herself and shuddered. "Fine way to travel, that Floo powder, except for the ash."

"It's okay, mum. We can fix it," Hermione said, waving her wand and banishing all traces of dirt on her mother's clothes.

Helena thanked her daughter and squinted at the man keeping them company. "Are you -- you must be -- no." She glanced at Hermione and turned to the man again. "I almost thought you were Harry, but I realized that you looked -- well -- older, but then you didn't look old enough to be his father in any case--"

James held out one hand, stopping Mrs. Granger in mid-sentence. "I am Harry's father, actually. James Potter, Minister of Magic. We've met before, in Diagon Alley."

Helena's eyes widened, but she covered up her astonishment and embarrassment by shaking his hand firmly. "Oh, of course, I remember. I'm Helena Granger."

"I gathered as much," James said, smiling warmly at her and noting the thick mane of curls that Hermione must have inherited.

Their handshake was broken by another surge of green flames in the fireplace and by the subsequent emergence of a tall man with sandy brown hair. At once, Hermione waved her wand to tidy up her father's garments.

Like his wife, William also looked pleased. "That's what I call a once in a lifetime experience," he said, taking the initiative of extending his own hand to James. "I'm William Granger. Hermione's father."

"James Potter," the Minister replied. "Good to see you again."

William blinked and looked around him. "I thought Sirius Black owned this house?"

"He does," James confirmed. "I'm also one of his guests, but he asked me to wait for your family and escort you into the living room, where the others are waiting. After that, a pleasant dinner expects us. After me, please," he said graciously with one final smile before turning his back on them to lead the way.

An image of a dining room, vague and yet instinctively recognizable, formed in Hermione's mind. "The dining room -- it doesn't have a pyramidal chandelier, by any chance?"

James started as he glanced inquisitively at Hermione. "Yes. Why did you ask? You haven't been here, have you?"

Hermione shrugged. "No, I haven't," she said matter-of-factly. "The idea just crossed my mind."

As they neared the living room, shrieks, laughter, and merry voices became more audible.

The room somewhat quieted down as they entered.

"Ah, my most awaited guests!" Sirius exclaimed as he rushed forward to welcome them. "Hello, Hermione. I hope you did not find it difficult to find your way here?" He gave her parents a charming smile. "I'm Sirius Black, of course."

"William and Helena Granger," William said, proffering a hand to the black-haired, grey-eyed man. "Thank you for inviting us to your lovely home."

"My pleasure," Sirius said, returning the favour and shaking Helena's hand as well.

A delightful round of introductions ensued, with Hermione's parents being made familiar with more wizards than they could remember at the moment, and with Fred and George Weasley making themselves known anew through another one of their practical jokes.

"Not again!" Percy Weasley hollered as he felt Fred stick something slimy and smelly into his hand after pompously shaking it. He tried to get it off but couldn't, much to his chagrin.

"Honestly, Percy," George chided his elder brother. "And twelve O.W.L.s at that. When will you ever learn?"

It was quite sometime before everybody had settled down enough for all of them to be herded into the dining room, even with the help of Lily, who charmed the slimy substance off everyone's hands, and Molly Weasley, who made sure the twins behaved for even a few minutes, until at least they entered the dining room. Sirius snapped his fingers as soon as all fifteen seats around the long oval table were taken and all the food Lily and Molly prepared appeared on the table. Sirius had thought it best not to have Kreacher touch anything they were going to have for dinner, wary of the slouching and grumpy house elf that did not seem to have even a shred of loyalty to him.

Dinner was a wonderful affair, what with the delicious food and the apparently endless servings available for everyone. Small conversations had also broken out around the table, all contributing to a symphony of enjoyable noise. Arthur and Lily were keeping William and Helena entertained with questions about the Muggle world. Sirius and James, on the other hand, were regaling Ron, Harry, and the Weasley twins with stories from their Marauder days. Molly, Remus and Percy were busy discussing the onslaught of books written by a good-looking wizard named Gilderoy Lockhart, while Ginny and Hermione were busy whispering and giggling in one corner. Every once in a while Hermione would look up to see James also glancing her way. Every time he met her eyes, he smiled that small smile of his and held her attention for a few more moments before glancing away. Hermione merely stared at him and did not bother to return those flirtations -- but secretly, she was thrilled.

After dinner, Lily and Molly once more engaged the help of their wands to clean up the table and started preparing dessert and drinks while the rest of them, except for Helena who offered help, withdrew to the living room. Hermione noticed for the first time how properly decorated the room was for Christmas. In one corner stood a tall Christmas tree, flecked with fake white snow and ornamented with red balls hanging from its branches. Gold ribbons were tied around the tree along with twinkling lights and a white angel stood proudly atop it. Bunches of holly adorned with poinsettias also outlined the edges of the room.

"Like the Gryffindor colours?" Sirius asked, coming up behind her.

Hermione whirled and smiled. "Definitely. Red and gold go together. But what's a Slytherin banner doing in the other room?"

Sirius raised one amused brow. "Oh, didn't you know? My family has been in Slytherin for generations and generations, along with the other pureblood families. I was considered to be the black sheep of the family for having landed in Gryffindor and for not sharing their pureblood mania." He sat down on one of the couches, and Hermione followed suit, taking her place on a settee opposite him and beside Ginny.

"But the Potters and the Weasleys are also purebloods," Hermione argued. "Yet they are in Gryffindor."

"True. But even among the purebloods there are hierarchies. The Blacks and Malfoys considered themselves part of the highest rung and looked down on the Weasleys and the Potters as blood traitors. You could just imagine the shame my family thought I brought on them by befriending James."

At the sound of his name, James turned to them. He had previously been teaching his son and the Weasley boys new tricks. "Backstabbing me yet, Padfoot?"

"Yes. I was just telling Hermione what a disgrace to Wizard name you are," Sirius joked.

James smirked. "Telling them your family history now? You are growing quite sentimental, Sirius. You must be getting old."

Sirius returned the smirk. "It's better than instructing them how to increase Lupin's headaches in school."

"Wicked!" Ron exclaimed at the reminder of Remus, sitting up straighter in his chair. "I just realised that all three of you are here! The Marauders!"

Remus laughed as he, William, and Arthur, previously engaged in their own conversation, shifted in their seats and joined the larger group's banter. "Actually, I was told that this Christmas reunion was primarily intended for the old Marauders. Sirius, however, realised soon afterwards that we might as well do with some new blood."

"But you're not all here," Fred piped in. Everybody looked at him. "I mean, I remember the Marauder's Map. I've used it. There were four names on it."

"Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs," George affirmed. "Which one of you--?"

"Moony is Professor Lupin. Padfoot is Sirius -- you've heard my dad call him that -- and my dad is Prongs," Harry said.

"Where did you get your names?" Percy asked, looking up from the book he was reading with an expression of mild interest on his face.

"Sorry, Percy, but that's a secret," Remus answered cheerfully.

"That still leaves a fourth Marauder," Fred insisted. "Who is Wormtail?"

The unexpected look of pure venom on Sirius' face was almost bestial. "He was no Marauder," he answered savagely.

Almost everyone's eyebrows shot up, except for James's and Remus'. The former simply had a blank expression on his face while the latter shot Sirius a look of caution.

There was silence for a few moments, which Hermione soon broke. "Why did you say that, Sirius?" she asked timidly.

"A Marauder remains loyal to his brothers even if it leads to his death," Sirius answered, his voice filled with hatred. "Wormtail -- his name served him right -- was no Marauder. He betrayed James and Lily."

"Maybe we could start somewhere?" Ron asked, hugging his knees to himself in anticipation of a good story.

Hermione frowned at him. "Honestly, Ron. Have you never read a history book?" she asked disparagingly.

"It's okay, Hermione," Sirius said. He took a deep breath before continuing. "You see, Harry, Voldemort wanted to kill your parents long before you were born. Your birth intensified Voldemort's desire to finish your family off."

"Why?" Harry asked. He had never heard this from his parents, never was told of how his father really defeated Voldemort. But then again, he had never asked.

James met Sirius's grey eyes and shook his head imperceptibly in disagreement. Sirius understood that he was not yet to say anything about the prophecy. "Well, your parents had defied Voldemort three times before you were born. James was the best Auror of our time, and Lily was reputed to be a very talented witch. The Dark Lord also knew that your parents possessed one weapon that was lethal to him."

"Which was?" Harry persisted.

"Right now, it's not important," Sirius answered, ignoring Harry's annoyed glare. "Anyway, with Voldemort pursuing them, Dumbledore advised your parents that their best chance to hide was the Fidelius Charm."

"I've encountered that one," Percy piped in as everybody briefly shifted their attention to him. "It's a complex spell that involves the concealment of a secret inside a soul. Unless this person, called the Secret-Keeper, chooses to divulge the secret, it will remain as such."

"Precisely," Sirius said. "Applied to James and Lily then, it meant that once their hiding place was magically concealed inside a person, Voldemort could be outside the window of their sanctuary and not see them inside."

"So Wormtail was the Secret-Keeper?" Fred asked with bated breath.

"Not at first. I was supposed to be the Secret-Keeper because James asked me to. I was willing to lay my life down for him and his family, of course, but I thought that Voldemort would almost certainly guess that I was the Secret-Keeper. He would be correct, and therefore try to take and break me against my will. I didn't know yet how strong I was, and I was afraid to overestimate myself and put James and his family in jeopardy, so I thought we should use a decoy. That was where Peter came in."

"Why not Professor Lupin?" Harry asked, confused.

Remus suddenly had an air of apprehension about him. Sirius and James were looking at him as though the question never occurred to them.

"Why not indeed?" James murmured, straining his mind to remember, waiting for Remus to clarify matters.

"That's also not important as of now," Remus said, encouraging Sirius to continue with his story.

Sirius got the hint and proceeded. "Anyway, James and I decided that Wormtail should be the Secret-Keeper. I thought that was the perfect bluff, for Voldemort would never have imagined we used that weak, talentless, pathetic excuse of a human being for something as important as this. And then, barely a week after the charm had been performed..."

All of the children gasped. "He didn't! He didn't turn them over to Voldemort!" Ginny exclaimed.

Sirius sighed heavily. "He did. After a week, I checked on Wormtail and found him gone from his hideout, but there were no signs of a struggle. It didn't feel right. I alerted Remus and..." Sirius' eyebrows furrowed as though he wasn't quite sure what happened next.

"I immediately went to Godric's Hollow to see if James, Lily, and Harry were safe. I travelled by Floo powder to find Lily and Harry hiding in the bedroom. Lily was telling me hysterically that Voldemort was in the living room, duelling with James." Remus choked on his voice, remembered horror mirrored on his audience's faces.

"I saw Remus and requested him to try to help Lily and Harry escape," James said, finally speaking up, his voice distant. "Remus agreed, and I..." He closed his eyes in an attempt to summon the memories, but they just would not come. Where are they?

"James did it. The Avada Kedavra," Remus finished for James.

"You didn't!" Ron whispered in disbelief.

Hermione gave James, whose eyes were still closed, a sharp and penetrating look.

"You performed an Unforgivable Curse?" Harry asked, stunned. He was also looking at his father for confirmation, unable to believe that somebody who detested the Dark Arts would utilize them to defeat his own enemy. He remembered Professor Binns's words, unheeded and seemingly insignificant at that time. Just because a wizard doesn't use Dark magic doesn't mean he can't.

"Yes. Yes, I did," James said, hedging, as though uncertain of himself. His eyes were open, but he was still thinking hard, racking his brain so that he felt the throbbing beginnings of a headache. When did remembering become so difficult? If he did succeed in casting the Killing Curse, then why was that deadly jet of green light streaking towards him?

"And so James defeated Voldemort, the most evil wizard who murdered thousands and evaded capture for years," Sirius finished. "At least temporarily," he amended.

"This Wormtail," Ron said. "You never told us his real name."

"It's Peter Pettigrew. He turned out to be a Death Eater and served Voldemort as a spy." Hermione exhaled. "I've read about this in books, but it sounds so different hearing the story first-hand. It makes it more real."

"Oh, it's real," Sirius assured her. "Very nightmarishly real."

Ron grimaced. "Where is he, then? This Peter, or Wormtail, or whatever his name is?"

"Dead, I sincerely hope," Sirius answered ruthlessly.

"Padfoot, no," James said softly. He was thinking about what drove Peter to deceive them, understood that there had to be some intelligible reason. Was it not the rationale behind any action that determined whether it was good or bad, and not the deed itself?

Sirius turned to Remus once more for help, but his friend simply maintained his silence. Sirius's face contorted once more in fury. "Don't tell me you can still find it in your heart to forgive him, after everything he did to you! Why, I would be glad to kill him myself!"

James shook his head in that pacifying, deliberate way of his, so that Sirius let the issue rest for the moment. What a best friend he had. Stupid, noble James Potter. Unwaveringly loyal to his friends, no matter what.

There was silence for several moments, allowing the gravity of everything that was said to sink in.

"What do you mean by Voldemort being defeated only temporarily?" George asked.

Sirius looked at James and Remus for help, as though unsure of what to say, but both were too engrossed in their own thoughts to notice. Sirius decided to plunge ahead. "When Voldemort was hit by the Killing Curse, he ought to have been killed. He was not, however, because a bit of his soul was safe somewhere."

"Huh?" the young adults asked, not comprehending Sirius' words.

Sirius sighed and explained, as simply as possible, what Horcruxes were and how they made a man almost immortal, much to the increasing terror of the young Weasleys, Harry and Hermione. When he had finished they all sat once more in heavy silence, brooding on what it might feel like to have their own souls ripped apart.

Molly and Lily, however, had been standing in the doorway to the living room long enough to hear Sirius telling their children about Horcruxes. Molly was stunned that Sirius would even dare introduce notions of dark magic. She was livid when he had finished, and it took her several moments to gather her senses and shout Sirius hoarse.

"What do you think you're doing, telling them about the Horcruxes?" Molly screeched from the doorway. She strode purposefully into the living room, set the tray of brownies on the glass table, and stood over Sirius with her hands on her hips. "You should have known better! Now they're going to have nightmares and it's all your fault!" She transferred her glare to Arthur, who had been listening with rapt attention the whole time, and to James and Remus, who looked equally transfixed as though they had heard the story only for the first time. "And the three of you! Letting him!"

"They were bound to find out later anyway, Molly," James said in a calm voice. "Better for it to have come from us than from other people."

Molly turned to him, prepared to lash out, but instead felt some of her anger seep out. Despite being older than James, she respected him -- and not only because he was Minister of Magic. There was something about him that commanded a degree of deference, especially when he used that unruffled voice that indicated, without a doubt, that the discussion was over.

Lily and Helena stepped into the room as well, both of them carrying trays with bottles that they also deposited on the table. Helena sat down beside her husband while Lily straightened up and looked around at everybody with a smile.

"Butterbeer, anyone?" she asked. The faces of everyone around her brightened in response as they eagerly reached for the bottles on the table and gulped down the drink as though all that verbal exchange had left them extremely thirsty.

Sirius raised his own bottle after a long swig. "I propose a toast," he declared, motioning for James and Remus to raise their own bottles with him. "To the real Marauders -- may nothing ever come between us again." The three clinked their bottles together as the rest also drank to them.

Fred and George lifted their bottles up after for a second toast. "To the new generation of Marauders," they both intoned solemnly, causing laughter to break out in the group. "May they live up to their predecessors' success and never do anything to cause them shame."

The tinkling of glass sealed the pact.

* * * * * * *

The train trip back to Hogwarts in January had been most exciting for Harry, Ron, and Ginny as they recounted the events of their Christmas Eve dinner at Grimmauld Place. When midnight struck, everybody started hugging one another, exchanging gifts and wishes for a happy Christmas. After all the presents have been opened and the late hour finally settled in, Sirius decided to accommodate all his guests for the night. The next morning was just as cheery as the night before, as Molly, Lily and Helena prepared different kinds of pasties, served along with coffee and pumpkin juice for breakfast.

"Fred and George won't stop talking about the pranks your dad taught them, Harry," Ron said as he took a bite of the Chocolate Frog he bought from the trolley. "Now they're talking about opening their own joke shop. Bit ambitious, really."

"They certainly have a flair for marketing their products, even way back in Hogwarts," Harry reasoned out. "It might be a wise career choice on their part."

"Sure, sure," Ron said. "But where will they get the start-up money?"

"Get a loan from Sirius," Ginny suggested, giggling, still deciding what to do with the Galleons she had received from him at Christmas. She turned to Hermione, who was scribbling furiously on a piece of parchment. "What do you think, Hermione?"

Hermione lifted her head, her eyes dazed as though Ginny had just interrupted her from very deep thought. "Uh -- well, I'm sure they can do anything if they put their hearts into it," she contributed evasively.

"What are you writing?" Ginny asked curiously, trying to sneak a peek at the parchment.

Hermione hugged it closer to her. "Oh, this? Nothing. I'm just practicing my maths. See?" She held it up for a moment, and true to her words, the page was covered in numbers.

Ron groaned. "Hours after the holidays and you're already working?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "Mind your own business and carry on your natter without me. After all, I wouldn't want to dull it." She returned to writing on the parchment, but quickly glanced up again. "Harry, that charm you told me about. Amplificare. By how much does it magnify magical power?"

"Exponentially, I think," Harry answered, his eyebrows slightly knitted. "From what I remember, the exponent to which it is raised is equivalent to the number of times with which it was used, plus one. Why?"

"I'm trying to figure out how many times I need to use it."

"For what?" Harry asked, knowing she would not tell him anyway. Why is it that every time she asks, she gets the answers, while when I ask, she doesn't give me any at all?

Hermione smiled enigmatically at him. "If ever I succeed, I'll let you know."

The male redhead looked at Harry with an expression that said Hermione was indeed impossible. Ginny shushed her brother and opened another topic for discussion.

Hermione's pen flew across her page. Nineteen years -- that would be approximately 170,000 hours, with allowance for leap years. If the Amplifying Charm was indeed capable of amplifying the force inside the Time-Turner just the way Harry described, one application of the charm would result in the squaring of the strength of the sandy mixture. One Amplificare would allow the Time-Turner to go back a maximum of 576 hours. To enable the Time-Turner to return at least nineteen years, three castings of the charm were required. This, however, would result in the inclusion of an extra force with unnecessarily high magnitude so that it would be impractical to use the same volume of potion. Hermione did one last multiplication and realised that she only needed half of the normal volume once its power has been magnified three times.

When they had reached Hogwarts, Hermione hurriedly stepped out of the train, dragging her trunk with her. She deposited it where she was supposed to, not bothering to wait for the house-elves to finish lugging it up to her dormitory.

"Hermione, where are you going? Hey, your trunk!" Ginny called as Hermione sped past her in the hallway.

Hermione stopped only long enough to wheeze, "I'll sort my things out later, Ginny. Thanks." She dimly heard Ron and Harry call her name in exasperation, but she didn't heed them. She leapt up the stairs two at a time, one hand clutching her robe pocket, and sprinted to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

The tiled surroundings calmed her somewhat, so that she paused for a moment to catch up with her breathing. This is it, the last gap, she thought, still trying to take in as much air as she could. She pulled her wand from her pocket and fished the hourglass from the inside of her shirt. She unhooked the Time-Turner from her neck, held it up to the light by its chain, and pointed her vine wood wand at the hourglass. Her hands were shaking. She took another deep breath to calm her nerves.

What am I so worried about? This charm is so easy to do, Hermione thought, unsettled by her suddenly clammy hands. Out of the blue she remembered Harry kissing her lovingly on the lips just last Christmas, whispering in her ear how lucky he was to spend another Christmas with her. Afterwards Harry had presented her with an oval-shaped gold locket with their pictures inside and, after securing it around her neck, kissed her once more.

Shame and guilt were now burning at the pit of her stomach, threatening to overwhelm her. No! I didn't go this far just to be dissuaded at the last moment! She tightened her grip on both the wand and the chain and declared, "Amplificare!" The hourglass glowed brightly for a moment. Hermione looked more closely at the mixture inside but did not detect any significant difference in its appearance, or even in its weight.

She repositioned her wand once more, but fumbled with it as another apprehension struck her. If I do manage to return to the past, what can change? Will anything change? She gritted her teeth. This was absolutely not the right time for her qualms to take root. Even so, Lily's face replaced Harry's in her mind as she unintentionally recalled how Lily treated her when they encountered each other properly for the first time that Christmas Eve. Although Lily had smiled at her, Hermione had discerned the lack of warmth and amiability in her eyes that definitely used to exist.

"Merry Christmas." Lily had held out a small, nicely-wrapped package to her. "This is for you, Hermione. I hope it suits you."

Hermione had returned Lily's gesture with a weak smile. "I'm sure it will, Mrs. Potter. You have impeccable judgment," she remembered saying, wincing silently afterwards at the hidden meaning her words implied. Lily had simply thanked her politely with the same distant chill.

Shut it, Hermione Granger! Worry about it when it happens. Not now, not yet! screamed another voice -- a more selfish one -- inside her head.

Hermione flicked her wand a second time. "Amplificare!" she repeated, more forcefully this time. Once more the hourglass emitted a silvery glow.

Just one more time, please. Just one more time. Hermione was feeling weaker by the second, and she wasn't sure if using the charm naturally drained energy from its caster, or whether it was just her own guilty conscience. For a moment, practicality -- the devil's advocate -- asserted itself one last time. Why are you doing this anyway? What is it for? Who is it for? the voice asked evenly, the way it would with an unreasonable child.

I'm doing this for James, for the two of us, Hermione answered stubbornly, squeezing her eyes shut. Really, I wouldn't bother fighting so hard if I didn't really believe he cared for me too. Hermione bit her lip so hard that she almost tasted blood. That Christmas morning, Hermione, while on her way downstairs to the dining room for breakfast, had run into James. He had flashed her a quick but awfully handsome smile, greeted her good morning, and was about to step past her when Sirius, from the breakfast table, had shouted a word of warning.

"You cannot pass that easily, James," Sirius had called out next.

"Why not?" James had asked, bemused. He had followed Sirius' line of sight and inhaled sharply at the sight of mistletoe, garnished with flowers, hanging above. "So?"

Sirius grimaced. "Well, mate, when a man and a young woman find themselves under the mistletoe, the man has to kiss the woman -- or else it will bring very bad luck in love to both of them."

Hermione reddened. Thank Merlin Harry's still in bed and Lily's in the kitchen. The mortified look on her parents' faces, who were the only people aside seated at the table aside from Sirius, was enough to make her die of embarrassment.

James had let out a strained laugh. "Come on, Padfoot. That's just an old wives' tale. Surely you don't believe that."

"Better to be safe than sorry, James. Besides, it's not such a big deal."

Not a big deal? James clenched his jaw and focused his gaze on Hermione. "We'll risk all that misfortune then," he had said impatiently.

Hermione had expected his eyes to mirror intense disdain. The look of desperate longing in James's eyes took her breath away more effectively than his kiss could have, and that was when she became conscious of just how much effort staying in control was costing him. He refused to touch her not because he did not want her, but because he was fighting what he was not supposed to feel. It made her want him all the more.

"We've talked about this," James had muttered in her ear just as he passed her.

Hermione opened her eyes, freeing herself from her reverie. Without another thought, she cast the charm for the third time. "Amplificare!" she asserted. As soon as its resultant glow faded, she waved her wand and vanished half of the sandy mixture away. She held the Time-Turner up and fastened it around her neck once more, then walked slowly to the end cubicle. She stepped inside and locked it, her actions as fastidious as though she had all the time in the world.

From this point onward, there is no turning back. Hermione stepped back from the door, extracted her wand yet again, and turned the hourglass upside down nineteen times over so fast that it was almost a blur. Without warning, she felt her body being compressed once again, the pressure so severe that she could hardly keep her eyes open and absorb the rapid swirling of rainbow colors around her. The immense pain robbed her of all her senses -- and just when she thought she could not take anymore, everything stopped.

Hermione sagged against the wall of the cubicle, nauseous and exhausted. She scuffled her feet to regain some balance. Even with her numb body and muddled mind, she could not help but wonder. Did I do it?

Muffled voices, too low to be discernible, cleared her head a bit. It's time. Still swaying slightly, she slid the latch to the right and pulled the door open.