Questions Aplenty
As she thought, they refused to give her the time of day.
As soon as she spit out the words of requesting entry and a meeting but was unable to provide identification, the desk worker got a suspicious expression and inched towards something under her desk.
Great, alright. The consequences of wartime.
Hermione is not sticking around to be picked up and thrown into a death sentence prison.
She hurries out of the building. She’ll just have to sneak in, she supposes.
It’s awful that this won’t be her first time sneaking into the Department of Mysteries.
Which problem does she address first. The lack of housing? The lack of money? The time travel? The urgent meeting needed?
With a growl and twist of her stomach, her decision is made for her.
——
She’s sitting in the middle of a small muggle coffee shop in a rural area.
She can’t do it. She can’t bring herself to steal. Well, in legal muggle terms, it would be food willingly given, but her morals remain too strong. Ron would’ve done this for her.
Oh Ron…. What must they think? There was no time turner. Did her body just disappear before their eyes? She should’ve eaten more cake.
Some God above must’ve heard her internal dialogue, for the coffee shop worker takes pity on her in her anxious state. She is brought a free bagel.
Oh Merlin, and to think she was going to steal from this poor lady.
She sits there munching on her bagel, lost in thought with panic starting to build up again. She really doesn’t understand how she got here.
In her internal musings, the loiterers outside go unseen. Until the coffee shop goes up in flames, that is.
With the explosion happening so quickly, she is thrown from her seat and propelled harshly into the wall. The unexpected blast caused her body to ricochet off of the hard surface, landing forward on all fours.
Well, she notices them now.
Why are Death Eaters attacking a muggle coffee shop with four people inside? Perhaps this is an ‘example’?
With a rub on her back, she gets up and hurries both herself and the bystanders out through a gaping hole in the wall, minding the collapsing building.
She heads back in once more through the smoke, covering her mouth in an attempt to stop the burning of her throat, looking around to see if she missed anyone.
She can see through the haze that they are looking right at her.
She does a check for any stragglers but finds none, just approaching masked terrorists. But they’re not moving towards the muggle civilians, even though they’re currently out in the open and vulnerable.
Unless… it’s her they’re after?
But that’s impossible, simply impossible. She quite literally does not belong here. She is utterly unknown.
Fearing for the lives of these civilians and in a typical act of self-sacrifice, she takes to the woods, seeing if they follow after her. This takes her back to some extremely bad memories.
They’re running after her. All of them. There has to be at least ten of them.
How is she expected to take on a minimum of ten Death Eaters in their prime? But, she is given no choice. She has to give the civilians enough time to get away. Why are they even after her? It’s just one issue after another here.
She dodges through trees, having already experienced this chase before. And it’s obvious that these Death Eaters are not well-equipped for running through woods.
This is why she’s thankful for her upbringing.
She’s faster and stealthier than them.
And that’s how she gets them.
She tries out a move only learned a couple months prior. She uses the summoning charm on a tree, its roots bending to her command. Another advantage. Most purebloods wouldn’t think of something so simple.
She continues to do this, slowing down her pursuers by blocking the pathway and giving her a few added seconds of thinking. She accidentally hammers one into the ground with a tree.
She shouldn’t feel sorry for that.
Right when she turns around preparing to enact a badly formulated plan, a Death Eater turns on its comrades. The unknown figure catches the fellow wizards off-guard, gaining the upper hand and launching spells left and right.
While their attention is now aimed at him, he gestures at her to run to the left.
She is suspicious, but also trapped. She takes his order and runs left.
She doesn’t let up on her running. She pushes on, ignoring the stitch in her side and forming cold sweat.
Setting off some sort of smoke bomb, he catches up to her and grasps her wrist tightly. His calloused hand was warm, unlike the windchill around them. This couldn’t have happened in summer, could it have?
“Come. Up ahead, a Fidelius.”
The voice, a male, leads her into an area hidden by magic, a medium sized brown shack. Looking behind her, it’s apparent that the Death Eaters have no idea where they’ve gone.
She finally breathes, turning towards her temporary savior. She hasn’t run in awhile though. They are both out of breath.
She points towards his left forearm in an obvious askance. He complies, showing a bare arm.
She lets out a loud exhale of relief, leaning back on the wall of the shack. She’s fighting off her bodies urge to panic and go limp.
And why was there a random hidden shack in the middle of muggle woods anyways? Hidden by a Fidelius, nonetheless. She’s tired of having more questions than answers today.
“Bloody hell, woman. You’ve ruined my mission.”
Hermione gets an offended look on her face, shoulders rising and arms crossing.
“Excuse me? I apologize for trying to not die.”
The male huffs. “Yeah, you’re excused.”
She can feel herself riling up, preparing to verbally dig into this stranger.
The creative barrage of insults about to be unleashed are interrupted by his hand reaching up and removing his mask. She can feel herself blink slowly, time itself pausing like it does in the movies.
Oh lord, he has the sharpest jawline she’s ever seen.
He runs a hand through his black shaggy hair, his eyes moving around before piercing her own.
She’s never seen such eyes, a deep brownish green with yellow rings. They circle his eyes in such a way that she is brought back to when she was taught about Saturns rings pre-Hogwarts.
He looked… wild.
The stranger breaks into a grin, ruining the moment.
“I’m just playing with you.”
He huffs out a chuckle.
“But honestly, what did you do to get a horde of Death Eaters after you, little witch?”
Just with that, reality snaps back into place.
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Oh yeah? Then why are they all searching around the area still?”
He points out the window, revealing that the cloaked are still searching left and right. She doesn’t answer, because what can she say? She is even more perplexed than he is.
In a showing of not perceiving her as a threat, he falls back onto a dusty old armchair, crossing a leg horizontally.
“Guess we’ll wait them out, stranger.”
That comment has her baffled.
“What if I’m a threat? You don’t even know me. I could kill you in here while your back is turned.”
His eyes meet hers, trailing down and taking in every ounce of detail they possibly could before coming back up again. She feels exposed, and a bit pissed.
“I could take you.”
That cocky smirk reminds her eerily of Harry.
“Merlin, you’re both just as stupid,” she whispers lowly under her breath, not expecting him to hear, or at the very least, reply back.
“My my, not even a first date yet and you’re already comparing me to your ex.”
Hermione gives him a disdainful look.
“Don’t be crude. And I don’t even know your name.”
He leans backwards, arms lazily lounging behind his head. The pose causes his shirt underneath the robe to ride up some, revealing the beginnings of a toned physique. It seems intentionally provocative.
“I’m Potter. James Potter.”
He raises an eyebrow, expecting someone dressed as a muggleborn to get this reference.
Hermione, in a split-second panic, apparates directly out of there, landing right outside of Grimmauld place.
James Potter was most likely left dumbfounded.
She takes a moment to take stock of herself, making sure that all of her limbs are still in place. That could’ve been very awful. Thankfully, everything is still there. She never did get that apparating license.
Oh no.
How could she have done this?! She’s already broken the first rule of time travel! It was by accident, but still.
Well, her name was not given, so things should probably be alright.
She stares directly at the window in front of her, finding what was once just a portrait staring right back.
The lady’s screaming sounds exactly the same though.
Kudos to the artist, she supposes.