A Paradox In Time

Grindelwald's Promise

Hermione was in the back garden of her parent's Abingdon home, watching the colourful barges pass along the canal on their way to the horse fair in Oxford, when the doorbell chimed unexpectedly. In truth, she was fetching top-up drinks for them all so they could cool down in the warm Summer weather. It was past two o'clock now and more than socially acceptable to have a small glass of chilled white wine with the selection of bread and cheeses that they were nibbling at on their sunny verandah.

So the doorbell came as a rather unwelcome distraction. That was until Hermione actually answered it.

"Harry!"

It was an exclamation. She couldn't help it. The events of their last day in Australia had made things unreasonably awkward between them. Hermione simply couldn't understand or accept that an alternative version of herself had slept with Harry, and he confessed that he could now think about little else. What that meant, and where it might lead, left them at an impasse that neither knew how to get beyond.

But it seemed now, after barely two weeks apart, that Harry had cracked first.

For not only had he brought himself, but he was also pulling his heavy Hogwarts trunk behind him. It contained, Hermione knew with a heavy heart, all of Harry's earthly possessions. Her heart flipped crazily at the idea, for if Harry ever offered himself to her completely, this might be what it looked like.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione asked, breaking from the hug she'd clobbered him with on sight.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't stay away," Harry muttered lowly, toeing the gravel path with his battered shoe. "And I couldn't stay there, either. I'm sorry ... I had nowhere else to go."

Hermione knew that the there in this case meant The Burrow. She, herself, had been giving the place and its family a wide berth, but Harry had been left with no choice but to return there. Now, it seemed, he'd had his fill.

"I wont be a burden," Harry promised. "It'll just be for a night. Maybe two. Your Dad mentioned he had a potting shed ... that'd do just fine. If I could just -"

"If you honestly think I'm heartless enough to simply let you sleep in my garden shed when I have soft pillows going spare, then I'm going to be very cross with you, Harry," Hermione quipped semi-sternly. "What sort of best friend do you take me for? We have an attic room that my Aunts often use when they stay. You're welcome to use that for as long as you like."

"No, I ... I don't want to intrude," Harry argued sheepishly.

"You intruded when you saved my life from a twelve-foot-troll," Hermione smiled warmly. "Now, come on in and tell me what this is all about."

"I couldn't stay there, with the Weasleys," Harry explained as they mounted the stairs. "It felt odd. And not just because of ... you-know-what."

Hermione felt her cheeks heat up in spite of herself. She still couldn't picture Harry's description of what had happened to him on that last night in Sydney ... or the rabid jealousy that it hadn't been her that he'd shared that experience with. Although he insisted that it was, or at least as far as he was concerned it was, however confusing this all sounded to her.

"Why? What was wrong?"

"I could feel things ... changing," Harry tried to explain. "Changing back to how they were before we went away. And not because I wanted them to ... they just were. I cant explain it. But I hated it. I wanted to ... I wanted ..."

"What?" Hermione pushed gently.

"I wanted to feel like I did back in Australia, when it was just us," Harry confessed. "And not just on that last night. But before then. I missed it ... that feeling I felt when I was with you ... and just you. I missed the intimacy, I missed the emotion ... I missed you. And I'm scared, Hermione."