Chapter 5
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iv
Home
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1943 hours
28 December 1998
Hog’s Head Inn, Hogsmeade
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She wasn’t expecting anyone in the abandoned inn. But, seeing Dean and Seamus enjoying their drinks made her sigh in relief. Suddenly a surge of warmth filled her as she smelt the dusty, musky scent of the old abandoned duvet wrapped her freezing body.
“Comfy?” Dean asked.
She nodded and raised her head to meet Dean’s, murmuring a thank you.
“Don’t mention it. Now, let’s get the party started!” Dean took out his wand and pointed it to Hermione. “But first, you need a spa date.”
Hermione felt her dry lips and skin moistened. She gave Dean a questioning look.
Dean shrugged. “Best I could do. Lavender taught us last week. Said it’d be useful to know some Witch beauty spells, like this Moisturize Charm, to avoid dry lips and skin in the freezing weather,” he explained. “Now, try to pronounce all the vowels.”
She did as he asked and was surprised at the lack of pain. She wiggled her mouth to get used to using it again, ignoring Dean’s humoured expression.
It was strange to be with other people again, but she was grateful to them for never giving up the fight and working hard. Lavender helping them learn some comforting spells left her feeling strangely hopeful for the first time in a long time.
"I take it you know your drink?" Seamus pushed a glass toward her and topped it off with Firewhiskey.
His lifted brows caused Hermione to snort. Her head tilted back as she swallowed the firewhiskey in one go. "Everyone would be crazy if they didn't drink after the Great Hogwarts Battle."
Seamus laughed. He held up his glass for a cheer. "To Ogden, saviour of our sanity!"
"To Ogden!" Hermione and Dean cheered.
They were on their fourth glass when Dean took out his pack of cigarettes. "Do you smoke, Hermione?" Dean held a Marlboro cigarette toward Hermione.
She looked at the stick with disgust and raised her eyes to see Dean smirking at her. "Dean, no!”
"Oh, come on! Loosen up! Even Seamus will have one."
"Smoking kills!" Hermione took another drink. The irony of that statement, she thought.
"Yeah, well, look at it this way. If we really dieー"
"Killed." Hermione corrected.
Dean rolled his eyes. " ー get killed from smoking, imagine how pissed those black hooded bonkers would be. The idea that we died from a simple Muggles’ cigarette. They'd expect to torture and kill us, filthy Mudbloods, with their magical stick, but instead, we're killed by a tiny Muggle stick. And we can clutter their world with them while we do it.” He waved it in front of her face and bobbed it on her reddened nose. “Come on, have a fag."
"Urgh you are unbelievable, Dean Thomas.” She snatched the stick from him and put it between her lips, just like how she remembered the boys she caught roaming Hogwarts after curfew did.
“Perfect prefect,” Dean teased as he leaned closer and lit up her cigarette with a snap of his fingers.
Hermione was impressed by his wandless magic. “Teach me how to do that.”
Dean laughed and taught her how to do it and also how to cast the Vanishing Charm after their smoke.
The three of them huddled together, fighting the cold December weather. They finished two bottles of Ogden and three packs of Marlboro.
Dean gave her two packs, "For when you feel like littering." He turned to Seamus and kissed him soundly.
Hermione blushed at their affection, a ghost of smile on her lips as she looked away. Swallowing down the bubble of air in her throat, she brought her sixth cigarette to her lips. It helped to dull the emptiness, if only for a little while.
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1602 hours
23 May 1978
The Tonks, Bath
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She studied the white stick between her thumb and index finger. ‘ Marlboro ’ was written on it. She only smoked this specific brand, in memory of her last night with Dean and Seamus. Before they ー
She closed her eyes and tried to push the memory of their death away.
She put said stick between her lips and inhaled lightly while holding the flame of the lighter she’d just bought to the tip for a moment. She took the lighter away and tried to recall when was the last time she actually had to use one.
She never had.
Hermione had been a right mess after her meeting with Sirius and Remus last night. Meeting them that early was not in her plan. She sighed before she took a longer drag, calming herself from the meeting and the memories that came after. She trembled.
As she nipped on the fag, she clasped both her hands together into a ball, crouching down on the curb, ー as if she was praying ー and pressed them against her forehead, hard enough to calm the hurricane in her mind. All she heard was her palpitating heart, muffled by a foreign buzzing sound that came every time her memories swarmed her. She started counting backwards ー a calming tip she had picked up from her mother. 100, 99, 98, 97, 96…
Slowly, she could hear the stomping feet of passers by, she could feel the soft wind hitting her cheeks, she could smell an expensive after-shave cream. She opened her eyes and caught Tiberius’ gaze. He squatted down, gently moving her hands away from her head. There was a worried expression on his face.
“Are you that unhappy to spend your time with me?” He said with mock sadness, stealing her cigarette and taking a drag himself.
Hermione chuckled and shook her head as she watched him puff the smoke out through his nose and nip it at the corner of his mouth. “That’s mine.”
“Smoking kills.”
She smiled at the memories his words filled her with. It felt like forever ago.
“It helps me. It calms my nerves.”
He took another drag, eyebrows lifted questioningly as he breathed out the heavy smoke. Hermione was sure this wasn’t his first cigarette.
“Sometimes, my memories, good or bad, come to me by surprise. I don’t call them, they just, come.
“Any words or actions could trigger them. And I can’t control it. And every time ー” she breathed in the lingering smoke “ー every fucking time it happens, I’ll start shaking, chill crawls all over me, and I begin to sweat, cold sweats.” She clenched and unclenched her fists. “And smoking helps.”
She eyed the man in front of her. He was resting his stubble bearded chin on his palm with his finger tapping his cheek as he watched her curiously. Hermione found it quite endearing.
“Is it okay for a Wizengamot to indulge himself in a simple Muggle creation?” She rested her cheek on her palm, propping her elbow on her knee.
She looked around, studying the neighbourhood where she would take her residency. She saw a bench across of the road and snorted, imagining how crazy they looked crouched on the curb smoking a cigarette, when there was a bench nearby.
“It’s okay as long as no one reports on him,” Tiberius winked and passed the fag to her back before he straightened up.
Hermione stood up, too, and meshed it with her white kitten heels. Tiberius watched with interest.
“That’s actually pretty sexy.”
“What? A woman littering?”
“Meshing it with that shoes.”
“You’re unbelievable.” Hermione rolled her eyes with a small smile on her face.
They walked silently side by side to the Tonks house. She studied the man, how he carried himself languidly in the Muggle World as if he belonged here, how he would easily laugh at something trivial like squirrels fighting over a nut, how he always, always, slowed down whenever he noticed he walked even two or three steps faster than her, and how he looked so good in his Wizengamot robes, billowing and regal, and didn’t give a care to walk around Bath with it. He took pride in his job and Hermione felt a sudden fluttering feeling in her stomach. She swallowed it down.
“Why are you staying with the Tonks? Are they your family?” Tiberius asked.
Hermione looked pensive for a moment, realizing that Tiberius had no clue about her being from the future. She cursed herself for letting him join her first meeting with the Tonks. Now how do I explain my situation to the Tonks with him on my tail?
Seeing Tiberius expectant face, Hermione recalled his question and answered accordingly. “I just want to enjoy my Muggle side. And, yes; distant, but family, nonetheless.”
Tiberius hummed.
Truthfully, Hermione was just so tired of living in the Wizarding World.
“We’re here.” Hermione stopped in front of a black gate with Tiberius on her side.
Before she could say anything, Tiberius pushed the gate open and walked confidently towards the black door.
Hermione shrieked, “Tiberius!”
She called him and tried to pull him back. But it was futile. He knocked on the door even before she could reach him. She closed her eyes and remembered how impulsive Sirius was last night when he asked her about Death Eater just at their first meeting. Do 70’s men have no self-control?
The door opened slowly and her breath caught in her throat as she saw him, the light-haired man who called himself her father in her time, standing with his wide toothy grin that she missed so much.
“Yes? Can I help you?” He asked kindly. His eyes set on Tiberius’ plum-coloured robe and he raised an eyebrow. “To what do we owe the pleasure of the Wizengamot’s presence?”
Hermione noticed how he changed his relaxed demeanour into defensive, and Tiberius, proud as he was, stretched his hand out in introduction. Hermione held the urge to cover her face with her palm.
“Mr. Edward Tonks. I’m Tiberius Ogden,” Tiberius shook his hand firmly, “And this is Hermione Granger. I’m sorry for the intrusion, but, I’m here just to send her off, as she needs to talk with you, on a very confidential matter, if I may say.” He grinned at Hermione knowingly. “Just wanted to make sure she arrived here safely and assuredly.”
Hermione was speechless.
Ted appeared confused, but Hermione knew he was studying her.
“Do I have your word Mr. Tonks? That you’ll give her the chance to explain, that you’ll give her the advantage of you listening?”
Hermione looked at Tiberius in utter disbelief. How could he foresee her lies and not even probe her for the truth? She saw it then, the maturity, the firmness in his words, the intelligence. And she had dared to compare him to a teenager. She shook her head.
Ted seemed taken aback. His hand was still in Tiberius’ and from the expression on his face, Hermione believed Tiberius had tightened his grip.
“Of course, Mr. Ogden. Who would dare to go against the Ministry at this time?”
She could hear the edge in his voice clearly and she knew Tiberius could sense his bitterness, too.
“I would say everyone. But I am a member of Wizengamot, and as long as I have a seat, I promise you that we, Wizengamot members, will keep our hands clean.” He let go of Ted’s hand and squared his shoulder as he bowed his head curtly. He turned to Hermione. “Is it too much of a request to ask for you to keep owling me like the previous three weeks?”
Hermione smiled, “Of course not, Tiberius. I’ll get myself an owl first.”
“Taken care of. If it’s confirmed you’ll be staying here, I’ll ask it to be sent first thing in the morning tomorrow.” He held her hand up and kissed her knuckle softly.
“Efficient as ever,” she commented.
Tiberius chuckled. “Wouldn’t want to lose to a teenager.”
“Pardon?” Hermione confused.
Tiberius simply smiled and brushed back a loose strand of Hermione’s hair with his free hand.
“Listen, Tiberius, Iー”
“It’s okay, love. You don’t have to explain anything to me.” He was still holding her hand close to his lips as he locked his gaze to her eyes, magicked brown for her stay in the Muggle world. “All in good time,” he said to her softly as he caressed her pale cheek with his knuckles.
Hermione was scared her heart might explode.
“See you, hopefully soon, Hermione.” He nodded at her before he took his leave, looking for the abandoned red telephone phone booth ー the visitor's entrance of the Ministry of Magic.
“Why didn’t he just apparate ?” Ted asked with his arms crossed and his body leaned sideways against the doorframe.
“We apparated here from Hogwarts and he’s going back to the Ministry,” Hermione shrugged.
Ted hummed and then looked at her. “What’s your deal?”
Hermione took out a letter from her satchel and passed it to him. “I know you won’t let me in until your know you can trust me, but, please, read this letter first. Hopefully it will be enough of an explanation. And if it isn’t, I’m here to answer your questions in full truth.”
Ted took the letter and studied the white envelope front to back. He saw the Unspeakable Office singe and his brows rose. “Unspeakable?”
Hermione just gave him a tight smile.
She watched as he read, his casual expression slowly morphing into disbelief, and kept her amusement to herself.
“Bullshit,” he said, but continued reading.
Okay. This is better than I thought, she thought.
“Let me get this straight,” he was staring on one of the photographs that were included in the letter, “You’re from 2002?”
Hermione quickly magically glued his lips together and cast Muffliato before she freed his lips, a little annoyed for his slip out. “This is a matter of life and death. Be aware of your surroundings before you open your big mouth!” She scolded him.
She was angry, frustrated that this man, the Head of Auror’s Office of her time, could be this incompetent in his early life. Disappointing .
Ted opened and closed his mouth to check if the magic was still on, and then he looked at her pointedly in all his seriousness. “Am I wrong to assume you question my proficiency, Granger?”
Hermione‘s body stiffened.
“Do I look like someone who’s incapable of casting a simple shield in silence?”
His voice was the authoritative voice that Hermione remembered and it seemed like her body remembered, too, as she subconsciously squared her shoulders, puffed her chest out, and cleared her face of any emotion. A battle-ready stance of Aurors. “No, sir.”
The corner of his lips quirked upward as he folded the letter into two and tucked it under his armpit before crossing his arms again. He was clearly having fun, acting all commanding with her. She dared to wager her Ted wrote the letter. She didn’t hide her rolling eyes.
Present Ted looked at her appraisingly. “Your hair. Is it really silver?”
She met his eyes, baffled. “You have a woman from 2002 and the first thing you curious about was her hair?”
“Ignore him,” a woman interrupted them.
Ted turned his body and stretched his hand out for the woman to take. She smiled at him as he wrapped his hand around her waist.
“Dromeda, my love. Where’s Dora?” Ted kissed Andromeda on the cheek and his action made her giggle.
“Napping. I swear to Merlin, Ted. If you don’t stop feeding her those candies I’ll burn your Tom And Jerry collection!” She scowled at him then turned to Hermione. “Sorry for his… tactlessness. How can we help you, sweetheart?"
Hermione mouth pursed into a thin line, trying to hold her excitement from seeing the couple in their early years. She couldn’t believe her eyes. Ted and Andromeda. So young. So carefree. So loving.
Ted passed the letter to his wife. She looked at Hermione, asking for her permission to read, and Hermione nodded.
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2128 hours
24 December 1999
The Tonks, Bath
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Hermione stood still in front of the white door. It was snowing, a white Christmas, and she was sure her wild mane was covered with snow after standing outside that long. Her gloved hands were tucked warmly in her pockets and the big scarf wrapped around her neck hid her nose and mouth. She closed her eyes and counted 100 to 1, trying to calm her nerves.
“100, 99, 98, 97ー” The door swung open abruptly.
She yelped.
“Granger! You came!” Ted greeted her, showing his remarkably straight teeth as he grinned ear to ear.
“Is that Hermione?”
Hermione turned to the voice and couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of Andromeda in Santa’s red robe. Teddy was snuggled safely in her arm.
“Isn’t Ted the one who should be Santa?” Hermione chuckled when Teddy changed his hair colour to red, strikingly matching the robe.
“To be honest, Dromeda here is more Muggle than I am. Such abomination to the Noble House of Black!” He stepped aside and jerked his head to the warm living room. “Come in, Hermione. Let’s have hot chocolate with melted marshmallows, extra for you!”
She stepped in and it was the warmest she’d felt in a long time. Andromeda kissed both her cheeks before she spoke.
“Make yourself at home, Hermione.”
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Once she finished reading, Ted took the letter and snapped his fingers, lighting the letter on fire. “Simple rule. Leave no important information behind.”
“Yes, sir.” She quickly groaned, annoyed at Ted, who was snickering delightfully at her automatic Auror mode whenever he used his Head’s voice.
“That was… something,” Andromeda commented with her twinkling eyes stuck on the photographs.
She’s taking this matter fairly well.
“And from the photos, I take it we were close?”
Hermione moved closer to her so she could look at the photos, too. Andromeda was taller, but thanks to her kitten heels, she stood almost at the same height as her. She could smell her hair, it was the same flowery smell that she used to have, and it made Hermione’s heart swell. She missed the familiarity so much.
“We were all dressed up as Santa, Dromeda. I believe that someone who said yes to your Santa obsession must have been pretty tight with us.” He shook his head, looking down at said photo again.
It was taken during Hermione’s first Christmas with them, and it could be seen from the photo that she had the same Christmas’ spirit as Andromeda as she was also had worn the same red robe and white beard.
“So fucking tight,” he corrected then looked at Hermione devastatingly, “You can still save yourself, little bird! Free yourself from Satan!”
Andromeda stomped on his foot and that effectively shut his blabbering mouth. Hermione felt her heart lighten, elated. She missed their bantering the most.
She felt warmth.
“Let’s continue this future talk inside, shall we?” Ted pushed the door wider with his body, an invitation for Hermione to enter.
Hermione was too startled to move but when Andromeda pressed her hand on her stiff arm and gave her the motherly smile that she so used to seeing, Hermione relaxed and instinctively leaned towards her hold. Andromeda chuckled.
“Welcome to your new home, love.”
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0830 hours
5 June 1978
Department of Mysteries
Ministry of Magic
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She pulled her hood closer to her face, trying to hide from the scrutinizing eyes of Ministry officers. She recalled, once, after she had moved to the Unspeakable’s Office from the Auror’s, Draco had complained to her about the unfairness in their uniforms.
“I mean,” he fixed the black hood for her, “Why can’t Aurors be all mysterious, too? And why don’t I get a robe fluffy enough that it billows everytime I walk, or flounce, like our Potions Master?”
The elevator stopped at the ninth floor. She nodded her head slightly to the bellboy as her thanks and walked the dark corridor with confidence. The other Unspeakables paid no heed to her.
She passed several doors and stopped in front of a black knobless door. A carving of hourglass was on it. She couldn’t get it open as she just turned up for work today and her wand was not registered yet. Hermione took a moment to admire their security measure and wondered why Gringotts didn’t use this kind of lock on their vaults. “Keys,” she snickered as she knocked the door twice.
She heard curses and crashing from the other side, and couldn’t help the grin that morphed onto her face as she saw bright golden lights, seeping through the small crack under the door. She quickly raised her head up when she hear the sound of wand tapping from inside. After five raps, the door opened and a buff tall hooded man muttered, “Newbies,” under his breath.
“You’re new.”
It wasn’t the rudeness that had render Hermione speechless, it wasn’t the big difference in their height that had Hermione intimidatingly straightened her body up, it was his gruffy voice that had her thrown.
His familiar old voice.
She couldn’t see the man’s face but she knew him so well to know he was scowling, annoyed at her inability to at least report her name to him ー her research leader. She cleared her throat.
“Hermes,” she said firmly.
He nodded and pointed his thumb over his shoulder, towards the mess that their team had made. He explained, “We’re stacking up the damn boxes. Those knuckleheads couldn’t even differentiate big and small box.” He led her to the corner where shelves of scrolls were packed. “This is your corner. For now, find the 1975 research report: The Meticulous Efforts ー whatever, and break it down. We need the knowledge for our project.”
She nodded and sat in her seat and started working immediately. She remembered everything. She remembered where 1957 scroll ー ‘ The Meticulous Efforts To Shorten The Distance for Time Travelers’ ー was: hidden behind the second row scrolls. She remembered what scrolls she needed to support 1957’s research: 1823, 1901, 1922. She also remembered that this report wouldn’t aid a thing for their current project. She remembered everything.
“You’re fast, kid,” the same man told her. “You fit right in!” He patted her back and she smiled.
This room, with its millions scrolls and tomes and boxes, and its smell: of old parchments and fresh inks, and this man by her side, patting her like a proud father, it all felt like she had finally found her missing piece in this time. She was glad.
“Yes, sirー” the man held his hand up to stop her from talking.
“Seal. Unspeakable Seal.”
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2134 hours
17 March 1999
Department of Mysteries
Ministry of Magic
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Hermione’s polyjuiced face slowly melted away and the Unspeakable that caught her yelled all profanities there was after he recognized who she was.
“Hermione Granger.”
She panicked. She knew she shouldn’t be here but she needed to find a way to go back to her time. She tried to yank her hand off his strong grip but it was for naught. He dragged her to the corner, hidden from other occupants’ eyes.
“What the fuck, Miss Granger? You fucking trying to kill yourself?” He whispered to her loudly, “And they called you the fucking Brightest Witch?”
“Pleaー please, sir. I need to get back. There’s something wrong and I need to know what it is.” She tried to free herself again, but like before, he was just too strong. She started to cry.
“Please. Just, let me find the truth. For Ginny. Please,” she begged.
The man was quiet for a while, he looked contemplative and Hermione was sure that he was going to turn her in. After all, she was Undesirable number two. Thinking of ways to escape, she was startled when he whispered another round of profanities.
“This is mad.” He looked at her one more time and sighed defeatedly. “First rule, you must stay close to me and remain silent unless I talk to you. I’ll tell everyone you’re mute or something. They’d kill you at first sight if they found out.” He took off his own robe and put it on her, something that any Unspeakables shouldn't do. “Second rule, listen to me. Always. Obey. Understood?”
She bowed her head and closed her eyes tightly, grateful that she met this man instead of other bigoted Purebloods. “Yes, sir.”
“Seal.”
“Sir?”
He pushed her hair back so now it was completely hidden under the hood. “Call me Seal. Unspeakable Seal.”
“Yes, Seal.”
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“Yes, Seal.” She smiled wider. “Researching and experimenting,” and you, “it all feels like home.”
Seal burst out laughing at her sentiment, and Hermione reveled in the laugh that she knew would be taken from him after surviving two wars. He was still sniggering when he ruffled her hood that it almost fell.
“Then, welcome home, kid.”