Free Will and Fate

With a feeling like a heavy weight being dropped and lifted from his chest, Harry opened his eyes to find himself standing in the Ministry of Magic Atrium. A slight dizziness remained after the Time-Turner stopped. When he'd traveled earlier, he'd assumed the side effects were because he'd been hit with a spell just before he'd gone. This time, there was no reason he should've felt anything more than a vague sense of movement. Going back and forth through time was supposed to be a painless process, as it had been his third year at Hogwarts.

He glanced down at the Time-Turner in his hand and frowned as he observed the fine crack going up the side of the hourglass. Cracked or no, as long as it had brought him back where he was supposed to be, Harry wasn't at all fussed about what had happened to it.

Harry walked across the Atrium to the newspaper stand in the corner. As he eyed the paper left from that morning's printing, an uncharacteristic curse burst out before he could suppress it. The headlines were innocuous enough--no mentions of Voldemort or Death Eaters on the front page at least, though that could be deceiving--but it was the date that had caught his attention.

Harry glanced down at the Time-Turner in his hand again, eyeing the crack and biting his bottom lip. Eight more turns should do it. He grasped the Time-Turner in his hand and pushed it forward eight times, cursing again when it spun listlessly in his hand before winding to a slow stop. Harry eyed the paper. September 1, 1995, the beginning of his fifth year of school. He was stuck here. He and the Harry who would be on the train to Hogwarts right now. He cursed again and replaced it in his bag.

He could hear Hermione in his head right now. I tried to tell you Harry, but you had to be stubborn, she'd say. And she'd be right, as always. Harry thought of an immediate solution for the problem. Professor Dumbledore. He turned and smiled at the long rows of open Floos at one end of the Ministry Atrium before glancing around the Atrium in search of a clock. Everyone would probably be at dinner now, or at least the Sorting. He could get into the school undetected. He'd go to Hogwarts, find Dumbledore, and find a way to get back to the right time. In the meantime, he'd have to...avoid himself. He could hear Ron laughing now.

Harry stepped out of the Floo and into the Gryffindor common room, brushing ash from his jeans and shaking his hair as he stepped out. It had been less than two days, but felt like a lifetime since he'd walked out of this room--ran, really--on his way to what he thought was a rescue mission for his godfather. In truth, he was dying to find out how much had changed in the school and the fight against Voldemort since he'd left and come back, but he knew that getting back to the right time was the best course of action--at least, the one that wouldn't have the Ministry mounting an immediate inquiry about his Time-Turner use. He'd deal with Fudge, or hopefully a much more reasonable Minister, later.

Harry pushed through the portrait hole and turned left, almost jogging in his excitement. He knew it would probably be a while before the Headmaster headed upstairs, but the prospect of being able to tell someone what he'd done, even at the risk of getting a lecture from his Headmaster about responsibility and consequences--on second thought, he wasn't really in the mood to hear Professor Dumbledore say whatever he'd be hearing from Hermione later. He just wanted to get back to the correct month and date, and see his parents, finally.

Rounding the corner again, Harry went up to the gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's office and began running through the list of candies Professor Dumbledore favored, sure one of them would be the current password. He'd just gotten to Fizzing Whizbees when he concluded that waiting for the Headmaster's return was an exercise in patience he wasn't prepared to withstand. Stopping long enough to pull his Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder's Map from his bag, Harry made his way down the staircases to the ground floor, hoping he could look around the school a bit before dinner was finished.

Though it was crowded, he didn't see himself sitting at the Gryffindor table, where it seemed everyone else in the school was having dinner. Everyone except Professor Dumbledore. Peering down at the small label next to one of the dots, Harry thought he saw Professor McGonagall and reasoned that though she'd be angry, she would at least help him...before giving him detention. He thought he'd gotten out of the habit of getting detentions before the school year had started properly. Perhaps, even with a change in the past, some things would always remain the same.

With everyone in the Great Hall, Harry relieved himself of his Invisibility Cloak and began walking back up the stairs, stuffing the Cloak and the Marauder's Map into his bag. A visit to the Trophy Room on the third floor would be a better distraction than pacing around wondering what punishments he'd suffer when his professors found out what he'd been up to. Maybe he'd won something and the contents of the room had changed. It'd be a welcome change, to have spent time winning awards and celebrating achievements instead of merely attempting to live through his first few years at Hogwarts. He'd just set his first foot on the bottom stair when a shout from the hall had him turning back, too startled at the voice to cover himself with his Cloak and hide.

"Harry!" Hermione shouted again, smiling as she ran towards him, her thick hair flying behind her. "What happened to you?"

She didn't sound upset, merely using the same lecturing tone he'd gotten used to over the years. He smiled, imagining her next words would start with something like, I was so worried...

"I was worried when you didn't make it onto the train earlier." Hermione turned her head to look down the hall then and so missed Harry's small snort of laughter. "Our things have already been taken upstairs, but there's still time if you want to have dinner. You can tell me what you've been doing all day since you weren't getting to school the conventional way."

She crossed her arms then and gave him a look down her nose, that, even from several inches below, forced Harry to break out into a grin and then a full laugh as she glared at him.

At her persistent frown, he started to explain. "I was just--"

"Don't worry about it, Harry," she said to his surprise. He had expected her to remain irritated for at least another few minutes. "After what you told me, I'm just glad you made it at all." Then she stood on the steps next to Harry, pulled him into her arms and kissed him long and slow, welcoming him back to a school and a world he could have hardly imagined.

Ron is going to kill me, he thought. They'd never actually dated, but Harry felt it just the same. This version of the future was obviously very different from what he'd expected and Harry couldn't help the refrain that repeated through his thoughts as Hermione Jean Granger let him know exactly how much she'd missed him over the summer. This is just too strange. Then, he found his arms slipping to her waist, welcoming the way she leaned into him as she combed her fingers through his hair. Breathless, she pulled her lips from his and gave Harry the warm hug he'd been expecting, allowing him to let the shock register on his warm, flushed face.

"Hermione," he started as she pulled away. "What--"

"Let's go up to your room," she interrupted. Harry found himself unable to speak. "You know, I don't think they'll be done with dinner for a while. We could...um..." She let her voice trail off and blushed.

Harry jumped when he realized his hands were still on her waist. "You want to talk?" he asked dumbly.

"I--" She stopped and her flush deepened. "I thought you wanted the same thing I do. After all those letters...I guess if you need to talk about it some more, I'm okay with that." Her voice had gotten quiet and her eyes drifted to the floor.

Harry could only imagine the kinds of things they'd been writing all summer if that was the greeting she had for him. He was afraid to ask. "No, don't get upset. I just meant I have something to tell you."

Her smile was instantaneous. "Tell me in your room. I want to hear everything. Especially if it has to do with where you were today."

How hard would it be to explain to his friend--er, girlfriend--exactly what he'd been up to lately? Harry was starting to prefer this laid-back, affectionate Hermione to the constantly worried, mother hen he usually spent time with. He had no inclination to share with her the events of the past two days if it would just earn him a lecture--if she would even have reason to believe him. He didn't even know where...um, he was.

Why didn't the Harry who is supposed to be at school board the Hogwarts Express? he thought. And why hasn't he--haven't I--shown up later? Or now? Or...never mind, I'll think about it later.

He looked up to find Hermione staring at him, a questioning look on her face. "Lead the way," he said. As he followed Hermione up the stairs dressed in her school robes, he found himself wondering if she filled out her jeans as well as he remembered, then wondering when he'd had time to notice in the first place.

Hermione sat back on his bed and fluffed out her hair behind her, watching as Harry cautiously approached. He was in the same bed as always, with Ron on one side (the Chudley Cannons posters were a dead giveaway) and, he assumed, Neville on the other. The two beds on the other side would belong to Dean and Seamus. At least his House and roommates hadn't changed. The trunk next to the bed was the standard every student had. The cage on the floor next to it stood empty. What would he find when he opened that trunk? Some snacks his mother had packed because she knew they were his favorites? Or worse, moldy old hand-me-down socks courtesy of the Dursleys? Hopefully, his late-night note writing had spared him a childhood of suffering at the hands of those people. He'd be happy to erase those memories in time.

The soft touch of Hermione's hand on his made Harry jump in place.

"Harry, what's wrong?" She continued in a soft voice. "You know, if you don't want to do anything, we don't--"

"No," he interrupted, cutting off the words he was at once intrigued and frightened to hear. "I've just gone through a lot today. I haven't eaten--" He paused, realizing at least that was true. He'd been running on pure adrenaline. The last meal he'd eaten had probably been lunch two days previous, and he'd picked at that, nervous as he was about his O.W.L.s in History of Magic. Suffering through the test with Umbridge supervising seemed, and was, a world away. He lowered his bag to the floor and caught Hermione's eye.

"I'm sorry if I'm not myself."

Hermione's hand eased from his fingertips to fully grasp his palm against hers. Her skin was like warm silk against his. Harry suddenly wanted her to go further; he didn't know where the thought had come from, but he pushed it away quickly.

"If that's all it is," she began, "I can ask Professor McGonagall if someone can bring a plate up here for you." Her eyes dropped and she slid her legs over the edge of the bed, staring at her feet as if she suddenly found them fascinating. "She'll understand if you're tired and don't really feel well."

"Do you understand?" Before he could give himself time to think about it, Harry had cupped her face in both hands and turned it up to his. "I have to tell you something very important, but I just realized I can't right now."

She nodded, her wide brown eyes suddenly brimming with tears. "I understand, Harry. You've had a lot going on lately." Hermione's eyes left his and she looked away, wiping at her eyes quickly as she rushed on. "I understand if you regret any of the things you said. If you want to break up." Her voice cracked on the last words and Harry enveloped her in a tight hug, wondering just how close they'd gotten if she was reacting that way.

"No, Hermione, I didn't mean I want to--to end things, just that I'm not ready for...anything tonight."

"And you don't think less of me because I said I want to--"

"No," he said. "We care about each other, right? We want the same things."

Hermione nodded, then stood on tiptoe abruptly, brushing her tear-moistened lips over his frantically. He caught her arm as she tried to move away and held her until she relaxed in his arms, shuddering a bit as he responded to her advances, kissing her back as he wiped at her tears with his thumbs. Long moments later, she pulled away, smiling shyly.

"I better get downstairs before they clear the tables. I hope you feel better Harry." With that, she walked out of his room and down the stairs, leaving Harry to wonder if, and hope, those letters she spoke of were in his trunk. He had a feeling he had an interesting night of reading ahead of himself.