A Dance Through Thyme [Harry Potter]

There are no strangers here; only friends you haven't met. An unknown man sends Hermione back to the Marauder's Era as revenge, however, the consequences are far more disastrous than what even he imagines when Hermione loses her memory of the past. Why did that man do this to her, and what secrets will be spilled? Who is the guilty party?

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11. Chapter 10: Unschuldig

 

Innocent

There were several fretful days where Hermione did not receive any news at all from the outside world. Claustrophobia had settled within her stomach, aggravating her to the point of nausea. No one came in to the Room to visit, and she could not go out to see anybody without severe repercussions.

Something within her told her that Dumbledore was to be trusted, and she did not want to lose the faith that he had in her. Hermione could see the attractions that her being in the castle held for the Headmaster. He would have the chance to invest himself in magic that was potentially unexplored in previous eras. For a mind that was as brilliant as Dumbledore’s, this was an opportunity that was too good to go unnoticed.

So, instead, she was forced to sit in the Room and amuse herself. All pretence of finding a way out was given up on, and Hermione would often catch herself staring into nothing. Occasionally, she would rouse herself from her stupor, and find just enough strength to water the various pots that Remus had previously set up for her. In the days preceding Remus’ last visit, Hermione had been able to see a tiny amount of green as the succulent shoots began to emerge from the dark earth; however, in recent days it seemed that the leaves seemed to be following Hermione’s lead, and were drooping and wilting, no matter how much water she gave them.

A melancholic feeling seemed to emanate and infect the very air around her as her thoughts were consumed with the relationships and allegiances that had been formed since she had arrived in this era.

Peter, she could hardly count as being a friend. Even as a marauder, he had only visited her once, and that was the time in which he had been introduced to her. Hermione could not help but wonder if he was as close a friend as what Sirius, James and Remus considered him to be.

Sirius was polite and cordial, visiting perhaps a couple of time a week with the odd bit of gossip for Hermione. He was the only person who was willing enough to discuss You-Know-Who with her. Although he spoke quite candidly on the matter, and with a relaxed voice, Hermione got the distinct impression that there were some underlying tensions running under his skin regarding that particular topic. He was pleasant enough company for her, and made the long evenings slightly more bearable.

James, on the other hand, seemed to be more of a puzzle for her to solve with his often labile mood. There were times when he would be rather chummy with her. Similarly to Sirius, he could sit with her for hours, discussing the most obscure and hilarious topics, leaving Hermione in stiches and gasping for air. Yet, there were times when he seemed to shut down completely in her presence or worse yet, become annoyed and almost angry with her. Hermione was yet to notice a discernible pattern, and this annoyed her to no end.

However, it was Remus that plagued her thoughts with the most vigorous fervour. It was true that he did not create any kind of struggle when Hermione had engaged him in a lip-lock. Hermione put her head in hurt hands, face heating up at the mere memory of her actions. She had been so stupid! Careless! She was not able to rid her mind of the idea that she had somehow taken advantage of Remus due to his precarious health situation in that moment.

Every sensible part of his being had been dulled by pain and fear, and she had used that to her benefit so that she could get what she wanted. She was selfish, on top of being stupid and careless. But the thoughts that caused the most pestilence in her mind were the ones that compelled her brain to consider what it was that she really wanted.

Where would that kiss have ended up if James had not entered the room when he did? Given Remus’ physical condition, it was not likely that it would have got very far, however, if it could have, would she have continued to kiss him?

Thoughts swirled throughout her mind, and she hardly had the time or the energy to acknowledge their presence, let alone give herself a chance to answer them. The more Hermione thought about it, the more she realised that she was just as inflicted as what Remus was when it came to having senses dulled by pain. Wasn’t she just as affected by the pain that an injured Remus caused her, and therefore just as mentally impaired, and not to blame?

However, more than anything else, it served to highlight the fact that all of this was as temporary as her very life. There had to be an ending to everything, and anything that she could have with Remus would only be more painful to end when the time came. That is, if Remus had wanted to start anything with her in the first place. She was technically an adult, and he was still in school, even if he was only a few years younger than what she was.

The questions that she continued to ask herself only served incite more shame, more anger and more passionate feelings from within her. Her mood continued to drop even further. There were times when she thought she could physically feel the pain and anger. She learned to suppress it, compress it even, sectioning it off in one tiny part of her body. Manipulating it with her mind, she visualised it making a tiny ball within her. Hermione wished more than anything that she could take that part of her and rid herself of it completely. Scoop it out, or slice it away cleanly with a knife so that she would no longer be forced to endure it or deal with the ramifications that would undoubtedly ensue.

It was at times like this that Hermione would sit, curled up in one corner of the lounge as close as she could get to the fireplace without burning herself. More morose than ever, she resigned herself to staring into the glittering flames, thinking of the times that she knew to be too good to last and of the bully who had taken them away without a second thought towards the consequences of his actions.

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