Chapter 4
Hermione’s breath hitched as she felt the heavy oak beneath her palms, where the fuck is the door handle? Deep down, she knew she couldn’t interact with him. It could hinder her mission, could create a ripple in time that is devastating. They were never supposed to meet, it was an assassination. No communication. No feelings.
The bastard stared at her patiently, tilting his head slightly in amusement by the dishevelled girl that stood in front of him. Her wild hair splayed against the large door, begging to be released. Could the ripples of energy thrumming between them be having an affect on the tangled mess upon her head?
After what felt like a hilariously embarrassing amount of time for the brightest witch of her age to navigate a bloody door handle, she weaved her hand into the metal, embracing its cold touch and readied to yank. In her defence, she had just time travelled over 60 goddamned years and her brain was as scrambled as the time she ate Fred and George’s 'magic' chocolates.
‘I fear your forgetting something miss granger’. An ice cold remark rippled through the stark air between the pair.
Hermione froze in place, analytically processing the best response to the man that will murder her friends and loved ones. You cannot fuck this up. She was rapidly becoming too aware of who she stood in the presence of, this was not just any teenage boy. She did not have to ask for his name, did not want her assumptions to be true. But unfortunately she was too smart to be wrong.
Slowly raising her eyes to meet his, the first act of bravery she could muster. She focused in on the man presented in front of herself, his demeanour cool and unbothered as he threaded his arms into themselves as he took a firm step closer, closing the small distance they had between them.
As her eyes analysed the dark presence before her, her assumptions were justified. Hermione almost mustered a choked laugh at the irony of meeting him first in this fucked up world but instead covered it with the upwards quirk of her lip.
“What do you mean?” Her voice travelled firm, not the quivering mess she expected to spew out her mouth. Perfectly articulating a well put together witch, even if that was the exact opposite she was truly feeling in that moment.
“I clearly startled you from breaking into Hogwarts most treasured books and artifacts?” He claimed with too much amusement to go unnoticed.
”And why does it matter to you? If it so unlawful, why are you here too” She hissed back with less patience than she had before, as more time ticked between them, the hastier she felt about talking to him. Why out everyone in this godforsaken school would he care about the library when he orders his puppets to destroy the place anyways in her current time.
”well, it is my duty as prefect” he remarked as he tapped one finger to the metal pin positioned perfectly proportional on the right hand side of his blazer. An anger rose in the pit of her belly as she recognised the badge that she longed for during her school years, how she never gained the title due to a certain someone who now stood before her, glistening with pride. She couldn't resist scoffing at the display of the studious school boy persona.
A flicker of annoyance cracked out of the young man's articulated mask which was instantly disguised by him grabbing the candlewick that once stood on the desk next to him as he raised it between them. Hermione could feel the warmth upon her face, suddenly aware of how cold and dreary it was at night. She had always been alert at home, fearful of death eaters returning or news on the radios of another victim. Constantly waiting to hear a name she knew, had died or been taken hostage, she blamed Ronald for developing the fear of static noise from the radio before it would be tuned and reveal the next bit of horrifying news. However this was a different type of alert, facing your enemy eye to eye, still feeling the coldness his touch implemented on her wrist and now a flame held inches from her freckled nose. The small fire cast a new light onto the mans face allowing Hermione to heavily study his features; coal black hair wisping over his chiselled face, slightly covering one of his ashy brown eyes which were coated in a thick line of eyelashes. A small array of freckles scattered across his nose that led down to his soft lips and sharp jaw. It was cruel to have someone so beautiful turn into such a monster.
It appeared he had also analysed Hermione during those brief moments as his voice cut the silence once again. 'who are you?'
Hermione's voice was now quieter when she replied, 'I've already told you'.
'You don't belong here'. If only he knew how much of an understatement that truly was, Hermione thought to herself. When she couldn't muster a whitty reply that could explain why an unenrolled girl roamed Hogwarts restricted area, the man resulted in utilising Hermione's hand that still rested on the handle and pushed it forward. The door groaned under the pressure of his arm as he pushed his way through the threshold, taking her hand hostage, threading it into his own and dragging her into the hallway. The man's other hand still held the iron candle holder as he marched at a fast pace across the halls. No other students dared to roam the halls past their curfews it seemed, so Hermione had no choice but to follow suit, matching her pace with her captives.
She made a mental note of all the halls she walked past, every turn and empty crevise to try understand where he was taking her but her body was deciding to retaliate against her, almost punishing her once again for attempting this mission as nausea crept in, leaving her head in a messy fog. The pounding of their footsteps in harmony was her focal point, to keep her from collapsing then and there. How much fucking longer do we have to walk?
As if the wizarding gods had heard her plea, they came to an abrupt stop, causing her to collide into her captive's broad back.
"we're here".