Prophecy 472

11- Penseive

Ron was confused. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had missed something terribly important during his short time away from the burrow. The looks everyone was giving him were, well, bizarre. Ginny and Fleur were weepy, Mrs Weasley kept trying to hold onto him, Harry looked guilty and the rest of them were acting just as strange. Except for Hermione. She suddenly seemed calmer than in the whole two days she'd been back in his life. God, was it really just two days? It felt like an entire lifetime had happened since then.

He didn't know what Hermione had to be calm about now. If the vial in Harry's hand was any indication, they were all about to learn whatever thing it was that Hermione was so desperate to hide. Harry had quickly apparated to his and Ginny's flat and brought back the pensieve, which now rested on the floor of the living room. The whole family was gathered around it. Apparently, it was going to be a field trip.

"I'm not going," Hermione said suddenly, eyeing the bowl of the pensieve. "I already know what's in there, and I'd rather not see it twice."

Harry nodded, unstoppering the vial to pour the memory in.

"You'll be okay here?"

"Sure, I'll watch the kids," Hermione said calmly. "The wards are up, no one can get in."

Harry poured the memory out and into the pensieve then, and one by one each of the others pressed their faces forward, falling in. Ron took one more look at Hermione, who nodded and smiled at him reassuringly, then jumped into the inky blackness himself.

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They were standing in Ron's old bedroom at the burrow. The small space had somehow been stretched out to accommodate the twelve people who had just fallen into it. The edges of the room flared out in wispy, smoke-like tendrils. Ron landed on his backside with a thud and stood up, looking around to reacquaint himself. The walls were garish orange and Canons posters covered the area. And there, standing at his bed, was Hermione, folding a basket of laundry.

He watched her, the first time in ages he could examine her without her pushing him away. This Hermione couldn't glare or scowl at him; she couldn't see him at all. He watched the way her wavy hair hung down her back, some of it falling in front of her shoulders. It followed her as she moved, making quick work of the laundry with her thin, graceful hands. Ron wanted to laugh at the fact she was doing this the muggle way, even though he could see her wand in the back pocket of her jeans.

His family behind him stretched out to watch as well. Harry was watching Hermione as well, his eyes shining. It was obviously affecting him too, being this close to her, before she had gone away from them.

Suddenly, there was a pop, and an image appeared. The audience watching the scene jumped back in shock at the same time Hermione did. Hermione whipped around, dropping the neatly folded laundry and holding her wand out in front of her. When she saw who it was, she let the wand drop, then whipped it up again an instant later, realizing something was wrong.

Harry Potter was standing there, but it wasn't a version of Harry anyone in the room had ever seen before. His hair was short and graying at the temples. He had frown lines around his face and wore a wedding band on his left ring finger. This man looked to be about ten years older than the real Harry Potter should have been.

"Who are you?" Hermione asked, her voice stern.

"Careful Hermione," the figure said back. "You don't want to alarm anyone in the house."

This version of Harry held his hands up in front of him and placed a finger over his lips, motioning for quiet.

"It's me Hermione. Ask me something."