Time Turner
The world lay in ruins and both of them were tired of running but neither of them had yet been brave enough to stop. Taking one last gamble, they broke back into the Old Headquarters of the Phoenix, not daring to look around at the damage the other side had wrought least they come across someone they knew as they carved a linear path towards the library in the hope it would give them the last of the answers they’d been searching for.
They’d planned for this years ago, an innocent conversation that had eventually turned into a frantic race to gather everything they’d need should the worst happen as they watched the beginning of the end of their world. They hadn't wanted to have to use it, but he matched her naive optimism with a cynicism born of experience. He knew that the likelihood of needing this was far greater than he had ever dared voice aloud. She hadn't been ready to hear it before. But now, broken and bloody, half starved and hunted with no idea who was left amongst the living, she had silently accepted their fate.
“The spell is here, just as the last book said,” he murmured, taking her hand in his, silently asking if she was really sure they could do this.
She nodded, too worn down to object, her heart heavy as she accepted that either way she, this version of her anyway, was dead. He’d stay and fight if she asked, she knew, but it wasn't fair. She wasn't sure there was anyone left to fight for.
“Let's get this over with,” she murmured.
He nodded, “Black did as we asked?”
“Before the beginning of fifth year,” she confirmed.
“Good. That's…that's good. It gives us more options. Are you ready?”
“No.” she admitted, her voice small, “but it doesn't matter. We’re all out of options.”
“I know,” he whispered.
“You have everything we need?”
“Yes. It's all here. All we need to do now is go.”
There was a thud of a door somewhere in the house and the maniacal laughter that haunted both of their dreams travelled up the stairs, causing both of their hearts to race.
“Fuck. We need to do it now!” Frantically, he looped the modified time turner over their necks, both of them slicing through their palms, coating it in their blood as they began to chant. It spun wildly as the door of the library crashed open, their own personal nightmare remained frozen in the doorway for the seconds needed to allow them to vanish from the room.
She awoke with a groan, wondering where on earth she was. “Imagine my surprise to hear that one of my descendants, a great-granddaughter, if the heritage test is to be believed, was in St Mungos.” Arcturus Black mused quietly from a chair beside her bed. She’d been unconscious for over a fortnight. Severe magical depletion on top of malnutrition and exhaustion, the Healers had said. “I would love to know how exactly my great-granddaughter can be here….when my son is currently…not even been considered as an option. Of course, it's reassuring to know I will have a son. Not that Melania will consider it any time soon, Lucretia is more than enough work for now.”
Hermione froze, turning slowly even as her exhausted body protested. She couldn't have contained the gasp even if she’d wanted to. “You look so like him,” she whispered. “Or…he looks like you, I suppose.”
“Your father”? He queried.
Silently she nodded, “Theo?”
“Ah…Mr Nott. Another conundrum seeing as there is currently debate as to what to do with what was thought to be the last remaining Nott…when he's born, that is. It is not thought his mother will survive the birth and of course, Thaddeus Nott died not two months ago. Dragon Pox. Or so they claim.”
“He's alright?”
“He's alive.” Arcturus allowed, inclining his head. Something in her chest released. They’d made it then. Both of them. “You’re fond of the man?”
She snorted, it was such a patently absurd conversation to be having. “I should hope so.” she murmured, “He is my husband, after all.”
Arcturus blinked. “Interesting. A Black and a Nott…not an alliance we’ve had before. I’m glad my grandson was intelligent enough to bring in new blood.” Hermione barely refrained from laughing at him. It was either that or she cried. “Now, you were explaining how exactly you came to be here. You were found in a rather large pool of blood in the living room of Nott Hall. Thankfully the elf that found you was intelligent enough to get discreet help.” Silently he dangled the time turner from his finger. “This does not yet exist.”
“No, it does not.” she agreed quietly.
“Interesting. An experiment gone wrong perhaps?” he mused, “No…I think probably not given the state of you. When exactly did you last bathe?”
She flushed, “It’s rather hard to care when people are trying to murder you.” she bit back.
“I see. I assume that also explains why you're gaunt? It is not an absurd fashion choice from the future?”
“No,” she growled.
“Ah. Well then, I assume you’ll need somewhere to stay? My wife and I can host, it would do her good to have another woman in the house, Merlin knows that her options are scant within the family. How old are you?”
“Nineteen. What…what year are we in?”
“Nineteen twenty six. June, to be precise. When were you aiming for?”
“Around about here,” she admitted slowly. “I…Thank you for your offer of hospitality. We will need…guidance to acclimate to the time if you are willing.”
He looked her over shrewdly, “Of course. We will need a story. I’ll discuss it with Father. A daughter of Phineas brought back into the fold, perhaps. Your mother was listed as a Vance, an acceptable match, if not quite of our station. The fact that you married a Nott will work in your favour. He’ll need to be Thaddeus’ brother, of course. No one knew what happened to the man. He was educated in France wasn't he?”
Letting out a long breath, Hermione nodded, “It's where we met, of course. Daddy met Mother there too.”
“Your father died, tragically,” he said pointedly. “That's when you realised you had more family that you are eager to get to know. We are willing, as you support the family values.”
Hermione silently considered her options. “Those family values see me as one of the last living Blacks. My…cousin was cursed with the family madness. My father was the last male Heir. “
Arcturus blanched. “What?”
“You all followed a madman!” she hissed, “My...Uncle died in his service. He decimated the entirety of our world, there were barely any people left! Your views…the family doctrine helped him get there!”
“What do you mean?”
“I truly don't know how else to say it, Great-Grandfather! By the year 1998, the only Blacks standing are me and one, potentially two, of your cousin’s granddaughters.”
“Salazar.” he hissed, his face drawn. “The House falls?”
“Yes.”
“What do we do to stop it? Can you stop it?”
“I don't know.” she admitted slowly, “I…your views will need to change. Your wife is a MacMillan?” at his nod she continued, “Her views don't match yours, do they?”
“No.” he agreed slowly.
“Then perhaps it's time to listen to her.”
“And this….madman you say we all followed.”
“Theo and I are going to adopt him,” she replied as if it made perfect sense.