No Turning Back
Chapter 10: No Turning Back
“Granger?” Draco leaned in toward her face, but Harry—having spent considerably more time with the witch—took a step back, hands up in surrender.
Hermione’s eyes flew open, startled at unexpectedly having three grown men in her room. Most likely, the last thing she remembered was being tortured. She had snatched her wand off the nightstand in less than a second, the tip of it pushing into Malfoy’s jugular. Her hands visibly shook as her eyes wildly flitted from face to face, relaxing only slightly when they landed on Harry.
“‘Mione, it’s alright,” he took a tentative step toward her, hands still raised. “I brought them here. It’s Theo and Malfoy.”
She reassessed the two Slytherins, finally realizing she wasn’t in Malfoy Manor and they were no real threat. Her wand lowered considerably, but not completely. The tremors were less pronounced, but still there, and Harry’s heart ached for her.
“What are they doing here?” Her voice was raspy, but stern.
Harry looked apologetic, “I, er, well…”
“Get to the point, Harry,” she said, her tone laced with exasperation and exhaustion.
“Theo and I time traveled from the future.”
She obviously hadn’t expected that. Why would she? It wasn’t every day that someone turned up from the future, so he wasn’t sure why he had expected a different reaction. To be fair, laughing wasn’t the worst thing she could’ve done, all things considered.
“Good one, Harry. All the time turners were destroyed when we went to the Department of Mysteries. I even checked with McGonagall,” she stated bluntly as if reciting a textbook.
“Ah, Ah, Ah, Granger,” Theo smirked proudly, puffing out his chest. “You made the calculations yourself—“
She gasped. “You didn’t!”
Theo nodded, grinning like an imbecile. “I did.”
“And it worked?”
“Obviously,” Theo did a little twirl. “Now, back to the point. Potter and I only have about six hours left before we need to travel back—“ he held a hand up to stop her inquiries, “—and yes that does not include the extra time I allotted for incidentals.”
Hermione rolled her eyes at his smug smirk. “Fine. Why did you come back here?” Her question was directed at Harry. She probably had the same concern that Bill did.
“It’s not that we lo—“
“No!” She covered her ears, glaring at her best friend. “Nevermind! I can’t know! It might change how I react to something—or change a plan that we make—it could cost us the whole war, Harry! What if one of us gets killed? What were you thinking coming here!?”
Harry grimaced at the mention of precisely what happened, and her face fell. “Is it Ron?” Her eyes darted toward the closed door. Ron was sleeping in the room across the hall, sharing it with past-Harry.
He didn’t respond, but his eyes boring into her said all they needed to. “Oh,” was her only reply.
“That’s why we’re here—to change it!” Theo jumped in more cheerfully, and Harry was eternally grateful for the man’s optimism.
Hermione watched Draco closely as she chose her words with care. “You can’t change the past, Harry. If I die, then I have to stay dead.”
“It’s not just you, though.” Theo looked wistfully between the couple gripping each others’ hands tightly.
Crystal tears pooled in the corner of her eyes. “Oh, Draco.” She looked back up at Harry and Theo. “How does it happen?”
“I’m not sure we should tell you,” Harry rubbed at the back of his neck.
“Harry James Potter, you tell me right now! I already know too much, at least this way we won’t change any details,” she snapped.
Harry mumbled something about terrifying witches who can’t make up their minds before answering. “At the final battle—you’ll know it when it starts—no one knows exactly what did it. One minute you were behind me, and the next you were gone.”
Tears of his own started to tread dangerously close to the edge of his eyelids as the memory of finding her, lifeless, surfaced with a vengeance. He’d never really dealt with her passing—simply prolonged his own grief by going along with Theo’s fantastical ideas. He knew better! He knew she’d never go for it, and instead of wasting all this time on false hope, he could’ve been using it to cope with all the utterly fucked up trauma he’d endured the last seven years…
“Stop it, Harry.”
“Stop what?” He said grouchily.
Hermione shifted on the bed to sit on its edge, patting the open space beside her. “You’re spiraling. I can see it in your eyes. Please don’t do that. Even if we can’t change it, you at least get to see me one more time, right? Let’s make the most of it.”
She was right. Because of course she was right. She’s always right. Harry had the instincts and Ron had the strategy, but Hermione had the wisdom and knowledge to reign them in. Who would stop the torrent of insanity just around the corner once he was back in the present?
Hermione took his hands in hers, but it only lasted for a second before he let go to wrap his arms around her.
“Harry I can’t breathe,” she pleaded, but he didn’t lessen his grip on her.
“I can’t lose you. You have to come back.”
“I can’t. You know I can’t—“ her voice broke.
“But why not?! We saved Sirius! I can save you too!” Harry countered, using his only argument. He really needed her to be brilliant here, because he hadn’t thought of a Plan B.
Reading him like a book, Theo moved to stand behind him, resting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Come on, Granger. Use that big brain of yours to find a way out.”
Her watery brown eyes met with each of their own. “We can try, but please don’t get your hopes up. We can’t risk V—him winning.”
They all winced at the near slip.
…
“Is anyone hungry—Oh!” Narcissa dropped the tea tray she had been levitating behind her as she entered the room, finding Pansy and Ron Weasley locked in a very intimate embrace and varied states of undress.
Pansy tumbled off his lap at the first sound of the intrusion, reaching around blindly for her discarded blouse. Remembering his manners, Ron stripped his jacket off, shoving it into her frantically moving hands and she sent him a small, grateful smile. He turned around to zip his fly, his cheeks and ears now the same color as his hair. Pansy’s weren’t far off—a deep shade of rosy pink to match her rumpled skirt.
“I see I’ve interrupted…something. I’ll just leave this here, then,” she swished her wand and the tea tray righted itself, landing perfectly on the coffee table.
“Mrs. Malfoy,” Pansy tried to explain as she quickly righted herself, but the older woman had already backed out of the room in a hurry.
Ron held out a filled teacup, “Milk or sugar?”
The dainty piece of china looked so small and fragile in his large, rough hands…
Pansy snapped to attention. “I can make my own tea. I’m sure you’d just ruin it anyway, weasel,” she spat, pouring a second cup of tea and stirring in two sugars.
Ron floundered at the sudden change in demeanor. “What the hell did I do now?”
She scoffed, but said nothing more.
…
The four of them sat and just enjoyed each other’s company for what little time they had left. Occasionally, someone would toss out an idea, and Hermione would promptly shut it down with logic and rules. While frustrating, Harry enjoyed seeing her for who she really was—it was what he missed most about her; her conviction, her ability to reason through almost anything… He missed her so much and she was right in front of him.
Harry caught Hermione’s eyes and decided to press his luck, he was the Chosen One after all, right? “Erm, Hermione? I think you and Draco should sit out the final battle at Hogwarts…like when the fighting starts, you both just leave and go somewhere safe.”
Theo looked nervously between his three companions. There was no telling what would come next.
“Harry, you know we can’t change anything. As much as it seems like we should, even so much as a hesitation at the wrong moment could be catastrophic! What if it’s not me and Draco who die, but Molly and Arthur?”
Harry rubbed at his temples. “Well, Molly kills Bellatrix—“
“Shh! Harry, you have to stop telling us things from the future!”
Theo scooted closer to Harry and held onto his hand for support. They both wanted the same things, but to make Granger see their side? It seemed futile now that they were actually face to face with the stubborn witch.
“Malfoy, back me up here! This is an opportunity for her to live! Don’t you want to save her if you love her so much?” Harry was practically groveling at this point, his eyes pleading with his childhood nemesis.
Draco’s face never wavered. “It’s her life. It’s up to her, Potter. Whatever she chooses to do, I’ll be by her side every step of the way. We’ve both lived through enough, I’m at peace whatever she decides. But what we do, we do together.” His final words were directed at her alone, and Harry knew why.
If she could save him, she would, even if it meant sacrificing herself. He knew, because he would do the same for her—any of them really. He already had.
“Could Hermione and I have a few minutes alone?” Harry asked sheepishly.
Draco was about to protest, his retorts on the tip of his tongue. Thankfully, Theo stood, giving Harry’s shoulder a squeeze and offering us a knowing half-smile as he walked out of the toom, dragging Draco behind him.
“Harry, I know what you’re about to ask, and I can’t,” she sighed, resigned.
He tugged at his messy hair, “I know, I know. But, there has to be a way. Like what happened with Sirius right? It worked because the Kiss hadn’t happened yet in both timelines right? What did you call it—?”
“A paradox,” she answered thoughtfully. “But Harry, Draco and I have already died in your timeline. Even if we stopped it in this one, the repercussions would be unpredictable. I’m not willing to sacrifice the entire war just for the two of us.”
“Just please, try to think of something—anything,” he begged softly. He knew he couldn’t change her mind, but that didn’t mean her mind couldn’t come up with an even more brilliant plan instead. “Can’t you just bend your precious rules this once? It’s your life, Hemione!”
She shook her head in frustration. “No, Harry, we can’t just break the rules because it’s someone you love! Everyone has someone they love—someone they would bring back from the dead if they could! I won’t do it. They’re rules for a reason.”
“And how many rules have you broken, Hermione? Out past curfew how many times? Illegally smuggling dragons—riding a dragon! Breaking into the Ministry of Magic twice! Cheating in Quidditch tryouts—don’t think I forgot about that one—Oh! What about blackmail and kidnapping? Seriously, Hermione, your motto is essentially that rules are meant to be broken.”
“I can’t! I can’t risk it!”
Hermione pulled him into a tight hug, and Harry wished beyond the farthest stars that he’d never have to let go.
“I’m sorry you had to lose a friend, and I’m sorry you’re probably the one who had to make the, uh, arrangements. I’m sure it was lovely, Harry, so thank you.” Her voice cracked, and tears slipped down her cheeks as she sniffled. “I never thought about dying much…once my parents didn’t know who I was anymore, it all seemed a bit less complicated. I figured if one of us died, we all would… Oh, now I’m rambling…”
“Hermione, I—well, I never made any arrangements—I just couldn’t! And there were so many trials—and the other funerals—and then Theo came up with this idea, and—“
“And you didn’t want to lose hope. It’s ok, Harry, I understand. Just—if it’s possible—since I can’t really be buried with my parents, do you think it would be ok if Draco and I—,” she stumbled, wringing her hands in her lap and resting her head of curls on his shoulder.
“Of course. I actually think Narcissa has a soft spot for you,” he cracked a watery smile. “She seems to like me too, for whatever reason.”
They both chuckled and the door creaked open.
“We need to get ready to go back,” Theo sounded apologetic, but Draco had already pushed his way into the room and was back at Hermione’s side in two strides.
“What’s the decision?” Draco asked, his eyes locked on hers.
She shook her head and Harry’s heart dropped to his feet.
Harry nodded solemnly and turned back toward Hermione. “Just think about what I said…please.” He placed a gentle kiss on top of her head and gave her hand one last squeeze. “Love you, ‘Mione.”
“I love you too Harry.”
They were both wiping away tears as Theo wrapped the time turner around Harry and himself. Then, they were gone.
…
“Isn’t that lovely?” Luna’s voice lilted through the bickering that had continued nonstop.
“WHAT?” Ron and Pansy shouted, pausing their current row to address the loony blonde hovering in the corner.
Blaise stood immediately, “Oi! Don’t you two shout at her like that! She’s doing your jobs!” He pointed at the candles on the floor.
“They’re green!” Ron shouted.
“Yes, you dolt, congratulations! You have eyes!” Pansy quipped back.
Ron just grunted, taking his place in front of the candle with his best friend’s name carved in it. Pansy sat prissily next to her own candle, and they waited.
…
Time sped up around them, whirling and ticking. Flickers of light alternated with the darkness—days speeding by them much too fast to follow. Harry felt a tug—cinnamon, warm sunshine, and fresh, dewey grass…Ron. The room in the Manor materialized clearly, and the spinning stopped.
Ron and Pansy were on their feet, anxiously searching them over. She grabbed at Theo’s arms, lifting them as she inspected him for injuries. Ron embraced him with a tight hug.
“Where is she?” he asked timidly. Harry could see it in his eyes—he already knew the answer, but he wanted a firm confirmation.
Harry shook his head, scuffing his shoe against the expensive floor.
Pansy gripped the chest of Theo’s jumper so tightly her knuckles were turning white, “And Draco?”
Theo couldn’t respond. It was too much to speak, he was already choking on any words that might claw their way up.
“He wouldn’t leave Granger,” her disappointment and despair mingling on the edges of her words as understanding hit her. She crashed into Theo, and unrelenting sobs escaped her usually poised composure.
They shouldn’t have gone. It was a terrible idea. Of course Hermione wouldn’t come back with them—she’d never risk unraveling the fabric of time itself! He certainly wouldn’t have if it was turned the other way around. He’d have chosen exactly what she had. Harry couldn’t blame her for that, nor Malfoy, really. What sort of life would he be fighting for if the one you love is still dead?
“Perhaps,” Luna said, her voice ethereal as always, “something has shifted here. Can’t you feel it?”
Her eyes were focused only on Harry as she spoke. Oddly enough, he did feel something different. Something had changed, but what? He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, yet.
“I—I don’t know?” He hoped Luna would enlighten her.
“Do you have a copy of last Wednesday’s Daily Prophet?” she asked Mrs. Malfoy who sat stoically on the settee nearby. “Wipsy!” she called, completely void of emotion. “Wednesday’s paper, please.”
The elf popped in, out, and back in again with the day’s post, handing the folded paper to its Mistress.
Luna leaned over the elder witch’s shoulder, scanning the paper. “There should be mention of them on page three if they really are still gone,” she said softly. It had been a list of everyone found to have perished during the war.
Harry scrambled around the haphazard furniture, nearly overturning an end table to get a look next to Luna.
The top half of the page was all the further they needed to read:
Hermione Jean Granger
Draco Lucius Malfoy
…
“Draco, you should go too. They’ll notice you’ve been missing,” Hermione whispered softly, not wanting to break the spell they’d fallen under, holding each other under the warm sheets in her bed.
He shrugged, pulling her in closer. “What difference does it make? If we’re going to die anyway, I’d rather it be here, holding you.”
She drew in a shaky breath, “I know. I wish that were true, but Draco, it could make all the difference. You’re meant to fill this role a little while longer.”
“Will you fight…for me?” He said it so quietly, she almost didn’t hear him.
“You—you want to try?” Hermione asked incredulously. She thought he, of all people, would be able to comprehend the trouble it could cause if they meddled with fixed events.
“Theo said you and Potter…he said you were able to do it before. I want to find a way now. The Wizarding World needs Hermione Granger. I need you,” Draco kissed her sweetly, and Hermione wrapped herself up in his arms.
Sighing, she pulled away just enough to see his eyes clearly. “What did you have in mind?”
…
Harry and Ron sat crumpled on the ground, equally broken. Neither one had wanted to face the reality that their plan wouldn’t succeed. They were the Golden Trio, how could it not? Even when things didn’t go as expected, it always worked out in their favor. But it hadn’t.
Theo had wrapped Pansy in his arms, holding her tightly as they both shed unabashed tears for their lost brother. Luna soothingly rubbed Blaise’s back, and poor Narcissa rigidly sat alone, unmoving. She had already lost her son once, and the second blow had surely shattered her.
“The funeral will be held tomorrow morning,” she voice rang out clearly over the sobs and sniffling.
Harry lifted his head from his arms, “Mrs. Malfoy?”
Her keen gaze landed on him, and it was much sharper than he’d expected. He thought she’d be Occluding again—dull and lifeless—but she wasn’t. Her eyes were filled with emotion, the broken heart of a mother.
“When we spoke with them, well, Hermione had a request—,” Harry tried to explain, his throat thick with sorrow.
“They will be buried together, side by side. I have no qualms about whom my son loved. She would have been a well-beloved daughter-in-law, and as such, deserves a proper burial.”
Harry nodded his agreement, relief radiating off of him as his shoulders relaxed to their previously sagging state. “Thank you.”
Narcissa nodded primly in his direction before moving to leave the room. “I will handle the arrangements,” she said firmly. Then she was gone.
…
“I have to go,” Draco quickly rolled out of the bed, his excitement palpable as he put on his black cloak with a silent swish. He’d figured it out.
“But where—,” Hermione hadn’t been able to follow his previous train of thought before Draco had declared he had the answer.
“I know how to fix this!” He leaned in and kissed her firmly on her still swollen lips. “Keep your coin on you at all times, do you hear me?” His stormy gray eyes pierced her own. “I need an answer, Granger.”
“I will.” She sighed, giving up if only for the moment. “I lo—“
“Not yet,” he grinned wolfishly, looking entirely like the gorgeously devious boy she once knew.
Her heart melted as he disapparated in a thick cloud of black smoke. She had hope.