A Dance Through Thyme (Harry Potter)

Phase Eins

Chapter 18: Step One

Hermione had assumed that Dumbledore, with his great mind and infinite wisdom, would be able to create a counter-curse within hours, and she would be back home before she had the chance to pack. However, she soon learned that this was not the case, at all.

It had been exactly two weeks since Hermione had heard even a whisper from the Headmaster.

What angered her even more was the fact that she had no choice but to bottle up her emotions because she could never reveal the true extent of her past to her new friends, the Marauders, and most especially from within this bunch, Remus. With all the recent revelations which Hermione had uncovered, her brain was now running in overdrive. She had been unable to still her thoughts for several days despite Remus’ attempts to calm her down.

At first, it manifested itself as an overall restlessness she had been unable to concentrate on one task for very long before she got too frustrated with it and moved onto something else. Then she progressed to that dark place in her mind from she had only recently escaped. It was that place where she would lie in bed each morning and stare at the ceiling, counting the cracks which separated one block of stone from another, not wanting to release herself from the sheets.

It was the place where she felt utterly drained of all energy, yet at the same time, she felt completely consumed by it.

Yet again, odd things began to start happening around her with no conscious effort on her part. On one particular morning, all the embossed, gold-coloured titles of books had disappeared from their spines on the bookshelf. Hermione did not know Hogwarts: A History from Secrets of the Darkest Art, and it worried her to no end.

All but one flowerpot had shattered when Remus had knocked over the rickety table in her living area. Most of the soil had spilled out of this remaining pot, effectively killing whatever had been growing inside of it; however, Hermione was sure that she could see the tender green shoots of a new plant beginning to poke through the soil. However, it was not a shoot of the parsley which had been growing previously. Instead, it had morphed into thyme – the very herb which Hermione deduced had brought back her memory when she smelled it.

Remus had taken to visiting Hermione overnight, sleeping beside her in bed with his arms firmly wrapped around her waist as he attempted to calm her. Despite herself, Hermione rather enjoyed these evenings. There was something incredibly comforting and appealing about having a muscularly-toned and shirtless Remus curled up to her side. There were many mornings where Hermione would almost want to beg for time to slow down so that she could spend a few more minutes of peace with a softly snoring Remus beside her, running her fingers through the soft waves of his fair hair. She always seemed to sleep a little better after she had been able to gently trace one of her fingers along one of the pale scars across his back.

Now that she had her memory restored, she knew of Remus’ lycanthropy. She did not tell him that she knew this, knowing that it was a painful subject for him – however, she no longer questioned any cancelled dates or prolonged absences. He would tell her in his own time.

Even though Hermione had more information than ever before regarding her time travel, she was still no closer to finding a way back home, and she couldn’t have been more frustrated with this.

In actual fact, it became more and more evident to Hermione that she needed a want. She could not go on for much longer in her agitated state, without using magic. Also, there was very little she could do by means of producing a counter-curse if she did not have a wand with which to do it.

She was laying in bed, very early one morning, mulling over these thoughts when she felt Remus shift beside her.

“Morning,” he rasped, throat dry from a night of good sleep. “Did you get much sleep last night?”