Free Will and Fate

As they entered the Room of Requirement, Harry looked around at the furniture and started briefly. "Why is there a bed in here again?" he asked under his breath. "I never asked for that."

"Oh," Hermione said. As Harry turned to her, she started to blush. "After we were caught on your bed last term, we needed a place to meet privately and found this room."

"With a bed?" he asked, one eyebrow raised.

"I told you, we never did anything!" she said defensively. A smile lurked at the corners of her mouth. "We ended up using the room as our own little common room. We were up here every day for two weeks before exams and you got bored watching me study. Eventually, you asked the room for the bed so you could sleep. Except for the food, it's the same set-up every time we come up together."

"Why do I get the feeling there's more to the story that you're not telling me?"

Hermione shrugged and turned away from him, putting the books on remedies and magical devices on the desk.

He watched her for a minute before he decided to ignore her silence. She had her reasons for not wanting to talk about it. Harry opened his bag and pulled out the parchment he'd found in his trunk earlier. He surveyed the table and the number of things they had to go over and search for before things could be put to rights.

That night in Godric's Hollow, it hadn't seemed this complicated. He'd thought his life--everyone's lives--would improve if he could prevent just that one tragedy. Harry never imagined it could turn out to be more complex than his previous life had been. He still had no idea what was going on at the hospital, just that the Ministry was seriously concerned about whoever had attacked him and McGonagall was growing more suspicious every time they spoke. Instead of having to survive repeated attacks from Voldemort and his followers, Harry was having to save himself from his own mistakes.

He sank down onto the sofa and let his head fall forward, leaning his forearms across his knees. He didn't know if he could handle a whole different set of problems. He'd been doing it for nearly 5 years, what now felt like a lifetime, and he wanted some time to just be normal. If he ever could be. He didn't even have the friendship with Ron he used to have, but perhaps that could change. With the drama surrounding his relationship with Hermione, he missed Ron more than he could say. And Hermione--he had no idea what to do about her, especially when she kept looking at him like she expected him to confess that this was all a dream and he was still the same boy she'd fallen in love with. He couldn't pretend, he couldn't undo it and he didn't know where to begin making up for what he'd caused. Harry looked up as Hermione cleared her throat.

"You're sure you heard it correctly?" Hermione asked. "They're working for a common cause and she gave him something valuable?"

Harry sighed and nodded as she paced. "The parchment most likely."

Hermione shook her head. "Not necessarily. Why would she give that to them when she could've easily kept it hidden at home? Unlike Mr. Malfoy and Professor Snape, she doesn't have kids at home."

"Maybe she doesn't want her husband to know what's going on. No one else is telling their spouse the plan," Harry said.

"According to Draco," Hermione countered. "No one else's spouse is a Death Eater. Unless you're not sure about Mrs. Malfoy?"

Harry shook his head. "She wasn't in the graveyard that night. If she was a Death Eater, she'd be in the inner circle with her husband. And my mom would never join them."

"Oh, I know that, Harry," Hermione said, still pacing. "What would three Death Eaters be working on together?"

"How do we know it's even a Death Eater thing? Snape and Malfoy have known each other since they were students here and Bellatrix Lestrange wasn't that far ahead of them in school. Malfoy is her brother-in-law. They've been friends since before they all took the Mark."

"It's the only thing that makes sense." Hermione frowned and stopped pacing. "Except Voldemort's not around for them to support anymore. Maybe one of them wants to be the new Dark Lord. Maybe they're planning to take over the school or the Ministry or something."

"Or maybe we should stop guessing and find further proof." He motioned to the parchment he'd tossed onto the table earlier. "We've got enough on our hands trying to get that thing unlocked without getting caught. Never mind the situation with the time turner."

"I have some ideas about that," Hermione began. "You may not want to hear them, though."

Harry glanced up and nodded at the worried expression that had become commonplace for Hermione the last couple of days. "There's been a lot of that going around lately. Go ahead."

Grabbing Magical Devices and Their Proper Uses from the table, Hermione sat next to Harry and flipped to the section on time turners. She showed Harry the first page and the small amount of information on the second one. "As you can see, we don't have much to work with. The Ministry guards them pretty well and prefers that each person using one receives personal instruction when they are given permission to travel.

"There are a few major rules, but you only need to pay attention to one. 'Never alter the events of time so as to dramatically alter the course of history. Special permission may be given in such cases where great tragedies can be avoided if they can be narrowed to one event, but the traveler must be careful to act only in the best needs of the society affected.' So, you've already thrown that one out of the window," Hermione said.

Harry nodded. "I know what I did. Does it say what the Ministry could do to punish me?"

"No, but that's not what has me worried. In the last section, on traveling forward through time," Hermione flipped to the second page, "the book talks about possible causes of distorted travel or going to the wrong time period. I don't want to read it directly from the book," she said, closing the large volume. "The short of it is, it is very difficult to damage a time turner so that it won't function properly. Even if someone knew the type of spell that could damage it, it has its own protections. Besides, your time turner worked for you, twice. That may not be your problem. You altered something in your personal history, something that affected you and your family." Hermione closed her eyes briefly and Harry could see she was struggling to contain her emotions.

"There's a strong chance you returned to September instead of next June because of the attack at King's Cross Sunday. If you--you would not have been able to get to the right date if your current self is in mortal danger." She opened her eyes again. Her voice shook as she continued. "That's why the Ministry is getting involved, offering you their protection. I think you're in the hospital dying."

Harry couldn't speak for a moment as he let that sink in. "Wait, is that possible? Wouldn't I feel something?"

"I don't know. There's so little information on this because not many wizards are allowed to do it." Hermione shook her head. "It's just a theory, but it makes sense. It would have been damaged during the fight in the Department of Mysteries, right? But, the time turner worked until after you changed something. And when you came into the Ministry Atrium Sunday, it was hours after the train left for the school. It's possible you couldn't move forward because...you'll be dead by June."

Harry had been unable to talk for a long while after Hermione's pronouncement. She had left him alone with his thoughts, thumbing through Magical Devices until she'd satisfied herself that she had exhausted the useful information from it. Eventually, she'd turned to catching up on the long essays she'd been neglecting for two days, intent on catching up with her assignments so she could spend more time helping Harry in the coming days. After a long period of silent thought, he joined her, writing out the homework assignments he'd done months before for a second time as a way to distract himself. Before long, all writing had stopped, parchment had been set to dry and books fell closed as the two Gryffindors fell asleep.

It was an hour before sunrise when Harry woke. The first thing he noticed was that he couldn't move. No, that wasn't accurate. There was something on top of him that kept him from moving. A weight that seemed to cover the length of his body. A weight that was warm and soft from the feel of it, and topped with bushy hair that tickled the bottom of his chin and neck. Hermione. Harry felt around until his fingers brushed his wand and eased it from his pocket slowly. He whispered, "Lumos," and the sofa and immediate area were surrounded by a soft light.

They were lengthwise on the sofa, Hermione with her torso across Harry's chest and stomach, her legs entangled with his. Their books, robes, parchment and quills littered the floor next to the sofa. Harry pulled his other arm from beneath where Hermione had pinned it to his chest and stretched a bit, wondering it if it would be rude to push her off of him. She wasn't heavy, but his legs were numb from having her on top of him half the night in such an awkward position.

"Hermione," he whispered. She didn't wake. He moved his wand down to see her face better. She was smiling faintly, a faint blush tingeing her cheeks even in sleep as she snuggled against his chest. He whispered her name again and she moved a little, stretching her body over his on the sofa, her face moving to nuzzle against his neck.

Harry was about to see if he could maneuver his way out from under her when Hermione reached up and slipped her fingers into his hair. Her lips met his neck in a series of soft kisses and she made a noise in back of her throat that was a cross between a deep sigh and a low purr. He felt that soft, feminine purr from the sensitive skin of his neck all the way down the center of his back, where it stopped and tingled before dissipating. He craned his neck to look at her face. She was still asleep.

He smoothed a few curls behind one ear and whispered her name again, pushing at her shoulder as he did so. "Yes, Harry," she breathed against his neck. Hermione stretched up again and brought her face level with his, gripping his hair in both fists and planting kisses along his neck and jaw line. She sighed into his ear and moved her body against his, straddling his legs as she moved up. Her soft lips met the space between his jaw line and the back of his ear and her tongue followed suit. Instantly, Harry felt blood pool in his groin. When he felt Hermione's teeth nibble at his earlobe, he dislodged her hands from his hair and pushed her backwards. She woke as her back collided with the other end of the sofa.

"Ow! What--?" Hermione stopped talking as she spotted Harry stretched out in front of her, holding out his lit wand as it were going to protect him.

"It's late--well, early. We--we fell asleep," he stammered. He shifted on the sofa, hoping Hermione couldn't see the tell-tale bulge in the front of his pants in the dim light. "I hope we can make it to the dorms before anyone catches us." He stopped his rambling before he could make an even bigger fool of himself. If the look of horror on Hermione's face was any indication, she was well aware of what she'd been doing in her sleep. Harry hoped she was equally aware he was trying his best to ignore it.

"Wow, I guess I was more tired than I thought."

Harry chanced a glance at her. She was looking at their belongings on the floor rather than at him. He took it as a blessing as he stood and shook out the hem of his snug pants.

"At least I got all of my homework done," she said as she bent to pick up the papers.

Harry turned abruptly as the fabric of her skirt pulled high. "Yeah," he said over his shoulder, more to fill up the now confining space with sound than to make any real effort at conversation. He thought back to the night he'd arrived at Hogwarts when Hermione had kissed him and then invited herself into his bed while everyone else had been at the Welcome Feast. What would have happened if he'd played along, taken her up on her offer? Would she have forgiven him later? Would he feel guilty? Forgive himself? What if--?

"Your homework, Harry." Without waiting for a response, Hermione shoved several rolls of parchment and the dream journal for Divination into his hands. She turned and slipped the strap of her book bag over one shoulder. Her robes hung over the other arm.

Harry grabbed the library books from the table and the bag she'd packed for him and ran, meeting her at the door just as she pulled it open. She wrapped her hand around the one holding his wand.

"Nox," Hermione whispered and the light went out, leaving them in near-complete darkness. They walked to their common room in silence, alone except for a couple of ghosts drifting down the hall. Once they stepped through the portrait hole, Hermione attempted to run across the room. Harry grabbed her wrist before she could get too far.

"Hermione?"

She turned to face Harry slowly. In the low light of the fire, he read her fear, her yearning, her embarrassment, and something else he was hard-pressed to name before she lowered her eyes and stared at the floor.

"I'll see you in Transfiguration," he said finally, releasing her arm. She smiled faintly and disappeared up the stairs and into the girls dorm. Harry followed her path up and into the boys dorm. He had another two hours before he had to get up for breakfast, but somehow he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep anymore.