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Breaking the Chain	By : RynStar15 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 42452 -:- Recommendations : 5 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, that belongs to the glorious J.K Rowling. I don't make any money off of this writing, I simply twist her world for my own pleasure.

Chapter List
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Ten years later...

"Test number twelve thirty-six: the time is twenty-three thirty-five on fifteen September, two thousand and nine. My name is Hermione Granger, Unspeakable number fourteen ninety-seven and I will be documenting for the remainder of this recording."
Hermione took a deep breath. This was it, it was finally here. After a decade of planning and researching, sleepless nights experimenting, endless failures and jubilant successes, she was finally here.
She took a moment to re-check her bag for the seventh time in the last hour, making sure every single document she'd scrupulously written was inside. She lovingly fingered the one book which had made all of this possible, smiling.
It was the only book which had survived about the invention of Time Turners; every other documentation, hundreds of years of research, had been incinerated. The Time Chamber sector of the Department of Mysteries had been closed for years before Hermione arrived, mere months after the final battle. As a war heroine, she'd had endless opportunities opened up for her, though her sights had been set on only one. Thankfully, as her work as an Unspeakable was, well, unspeakable, none of her friends had any idea that she'd spent the last ten years after the war recreating the Time Turner.
She knew it was crazy, she'd thought about calling off her venture myriad times, but she'd always returned, sneaking to her office at ungodly hours to continue her work. No matter how hard she tried she couldn’t give up; she couldn’t rid herself of the nagging sensation between her shoulder blades, the one that told her that something had gone horribly wrong that fateful night and she wouldn’t rest until it was righted.
Everyone else had moved on. Harry and Ginny were awaiting their second child, Ron had finally given up his attempts to court her and married a beautiful Hungarian girl he'd met when he'd gone to continue the work his brother Charlie had started. Her other friends had similarly paired up and had babies, all of them urging her to do the same. But her mind was set on only one goal.
Tonight, she had finally achieved that goal.
The trial testing had gone spectacularly, she'd never had such perfect results before. Of course, she was still nervous with this final test, but she'd cut out every single variable possible to make the jump successful. She would land at the exact same second, minute, hour, and day as now, changing only the year as the single surviving book had explained as the safest course for final testing.
Hermione could perfectly remember the day the book had come into her life. After securing her position as an intern, she'd jumped through every hoop to gain trust and good standing before inquiring about the Time Travel program. Saul Croaker, a friend of Arthur's who had happily taken up her interest as an Unspeakable, had taken her down to the locked wing, explaining that every bit of research had been destroyed when fellow Unspeakables attempted to break the loop of the endlessly falling Time Turners. No one was certain exactly what had happened that day, but the entire chamber had exploded, killing everyone within, decimating every necklace, and burning every single document. Except for this.
He'd lifted the book from its podium where it sat gleaming, not a trace of dust or soot upon its emerald surface. It had obviously been protected by a powerful magic, something far beyond the preservation spells put mandatorily on every research paper in the department. Hermione could feel the immense power thrumming from the book as it was placed into her hands and she stroked it reverently.
"Unfortunately, no one can open the damn thing," Croaker chuckled morosely. Hermione's heart fell as she looked up at the older man with defeated eyes.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, whatever spell kept it from being blown to smithereens must be keeping it locked. No one has been able to figure out how to open it. We think there's supposed to be a key, see that round depression in the middle there? Only no one knows what the devil it might be!"
Knowing her greatest hope in saving Draco lay in her hands, determination swept through her. Hermione requested to keep the book in her office temporarily so she could try various methods to crack the mystery on her breaks. He'd agreed with a laugh, though stating that she was wasting her time.
She'd struggled with the damnable thing for weeks, sneaking it from the department and taking it to the room she now lived in at Grimmauld Place with Harry, Ron, and Ginny. After the night she’d broken through the haze of the potion, she’d moved to the room where she and Draco had spent their last night together. She’d told Harry it was because she needed her own space, only Ginny knew the real reason why she’d suddenly wanted to move into the grimy upper floors.
It wasn't until late one night as she sat up at her desk, rolling her Guardian stone over and over in her hand compulsively while glaring at the tome, did it come to her.
It had hit her like a blow to the gut. Glancing from the stone in her hand to the book before her, her heart pounded as she slowly lowered the black and gold artifact to the circular depression, crying out in delight as it fit perfectly and the book seemed to sigh, glowing gold, and snapping open.
Ron had thundered into her room, wand raised at her scream, thinking she was being attacked. She'd quickly Disillusioned the book on the table and made up some excuse about figuring out a formula for work. The poor boy slumped against her doorframe, hand on chest, and she'd had to make him a cup of tea to settle his nerves, dousing it with enough Calming Draught that she'd had to tuck him back into bed while he grinned like a fool.
Hermione had hurried back to the book and been brought to tears reading the inscription on the front page, a note to "The Protector of the Future Sent from the Past."
Alvida had written it for her. Inside was every single iota of research the woman had done in her development of the Time Turner, meticulously explaining every failure, victory, trial, and thought.
Hermione had raced into work the next day, proclaiming her victory to Croaker who had swung her around his office before dragging her straight up to Minister Kingsley who had instantly bestowed yet another Order of Merlin upon her and granted her a team and funding to re-open the Time Travel Department, the chamber now named after her. She had requested a small team of three (though they'd urged her to take more) and they were all handpicked by Hermione and sworn to the highest levels of secrecy. One of the girl's eyebrows shot into her hairline when Hermione told them about Marietta Edgecomb’s current makeup regime.
Hermione did a majority of the work herself, of course, only relying on the others as a last resort. With her known enthusiasm for academia, no one seemed to think twice about her deranged obsession. None of her researchers had any knowledge of her relationship with Draco or her foray into the past during the war and she kept it that way. Outside her research team, only Croaker and Kingsley knew what she was up to and though Kingsley had dragged her into his office many times over the years, she had assured him her work was only for the greater good.
On the outside, she was seemingly back to the normal, work-aholic Hermione Granger everyone had known from Hogwarts. Though her friends nagged her about her lack of romantic life, all she had to do was light up her eyes about how wonderfully her research was going and how she couldn't possibly have time for one anyways and they'd just shake their heads and laugh at her antics.
She attended the necessary functions; the dinners at the Weasley’s, holiday parties, nights out with friends. She led her false life with a smile on her face and a laugh in her voice, but deep inside she was still trapped in that forest where she'd lived with Draco.
Ten years. Ten long, endless years, and yet the ache of his loss had yet to lessen. Only the knowledge that she'd be with him again someday drove her forward, her obsession consuming her life.
Hermione continued articulating her information into the floating wand before her as she flitted about her office, making sure she had absolutely everything she needed. Checking her bag yet again she signed off as usual and tucked her wand atop the folds of Harry's stolen Invisibility Cloak, noticing the shaking of her hand as she did so.
Breathe, Hermione, she thought, closing her eyes and doing so. It's finally here, everything you've worked for. You've thought everything through, this will work. You'll be with him soon. She brought her mind to the inscription that had been written at the bottom of the letter of her sacred book, penned by Alvida herself. They were first words she spoke every morning and the last she spoke every night.
"I mark the hours, every one," she chanted, the words a soothing balm. "Nor have I yet outrun the sun. My use and value, unto you, are gauged by what you have to do."
You know what you have to do.
With a smile on her face she whipped Harry’s stolen invisibility cloak around herself and turned on the spot, Apparating into the night.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Hermione looked up at the opulent manor she'd visited many times over the years. She knew a Muggle family lived here and she smiled at the tire-swing hanging off a tree in the yard. Galoshes were stacked by the door, a toy truck left carelessly in the grass. The lights were all off now, everyone obviously having gone to bed as it was a school night. Hermione thought back to the days when she had been like them, when her life had been nothing more than school and hopscotch and endless stories about heroes and knights and wizards. Now she'd seen all of those things and it was incredible to her that the people beyond those walls knew nothing about any of them.

With one last fond gaze at the home, she slung her bag onto her shoulder and dug her perfected Time Turner out of her robes, setting the date to 1237, nearly a year after she and Draco had left.
Taking a steading breath, she flipped it.
Hermione felt the heart-dropping sensation of flying backwards and in a whirl of wind she landed and looked up at the house before her.
It was now a modest, though beautifully crafted, two story. A freezing wind whipped through her and frost covered the packed dirt beneath her. It was much colder here than the France she had left behind. A stench of human filth hovered in the thin mist and she was quickly reminded that indoor plumbing was a truly magical thing.
Her stomach twisted with nerves but the bitter cold had her climbing the five steep steps to the door with a heavy gold knocker. Taking a deep breath, she lifted the knob hanging below a gilded lion's head and banged it loudly against the door, the sound ringing through the deserted town street which was eerily dark without the light of lamps that would come in later years. Quick steps sounded inside and Hermione set her shoulders, drawing her Gryffindor courage.
Locks clicked and the door opened the tiniest crack, a pale blue eye poking through.
“Qui vous est? Que voulez-vous?”
Hermione cursed inwardly. She couldn’t speak French, but she got the gist from his worried voice. “My name is Hermione, Hermione Granger. Is your mistress home?”
She could see in his one eye that he didn’t comprehend a single word she’d said any more than she’d understood him. Mentally chiding herself for not considering the language barrier, she began to repeat herself when a voice came from inside, a familiar voice than warmed Hermione even in the bone-chilling cold.
“Gilaude? Qui est à la porte?”
“Je ne suis pas sûr, le coup manqué, une jeune dame anglaise. A donné un nom de Hermione,” the man named Gilaude spoke to the woman behind him.
“Hermione? Etes-vous sûr?”
The door suddenly swung wide and Alvida Eynon stood before her, her fiery red hair tied into a thick braid, clutching her white night robe tightly around her. She gasped and hurried over the threshold, enveloping Hermione in a motherly hug.
“Oh my dear! You’re finally here! Come, come in out of the cold, you must be freezing! Gilaude, s'il vous plaît faire quelque thé et l'amène dans la pièce de dessin avec une couverture de laine du placard de hall.”
Gilaude muttered a quick “Oui, la maîtresse!” and hurried off while Alvida urged her through a glossy door and into an elegant sitting room. She pressed Hermione into a burgundy and mahogany settee and bent over a fire while Hermione shivered. Although out of the wind, the house was still chilly. Apparently, Warming Charms were not yet in affect for the thirteenth century.
“I apologize,” Alvida said, sending her familiar kind smile her way, setting a tinder to flame. “I must do this the long way. Poor Gilaude is unaware that his mistress is a witch and I would not want to worry him overly.”
Indeed, the wispy man looked old enough to be Alvida’s grandfather, but he moved with efficient swiftness as he tucked a thick wool blanket around her shoulders and hurried about the room, lighting candles before he flew back out through another door.
“The tea should be ready in a moment," Alvida said, rising once the fire was crackling merrily sitting beside Hermione, dragging her hands into her own, and gazing at her fondly before her face fell.
"You have aged, Hermione," she noted, stroking the small creases at the corner of her left eye. "The years have not been kind to you."
Hermione felt her breath catch and swallowed back the tears that threatened at her statement though she bit them back, knowing she’d cried more than enough for this lifetime. "No, Alvida. They have not."
The older woman gazed at her in sorrow. "I am so sorry, my dear. How long has it been since-?"
"Ten years," Hermione replied quietly, her face falling, not able to stand the pity welling in Alvida’s gaze.
"Oh, my dear girl," she sighed mournfully. "Ten years without him must have felt an eternity."
Hermione jerked up at her words, staring at the woman in disbelief. "You know?"
Alvida nodded morosely. "Yes, I knew Draco's fate should the two of you return. I think that even he understood in some way. That is why I gave you the choice."
Hermione shook her head confusedly. "Choice?"
Alvida read her face and sighed again. "He didn't tell you. No, I can see now that he wouldn't have wanted to put that burden on your shoulders.”
“Burden?”
“I informed Draco that should the two of you return to your own time that it would be full of sorrow for the both of you,” Alvida explained sadly. “I gave him the choice to remain in my time where the two of you could be together or to return to fulfil the prophecy. I knew you would return, however, because that is who you are. You carried out your destiny as you were meant to do and you have had to suffer the consequences alone."
Hermione turned away from the painful words and stared into the roaring flames in the hearth. The one thing she had wanted all these long years had been stolen away from her. Draco had chosen not to tell her of Alvida’s warning, of her suggestion to do the very thing Hermione had wished they’d done all those years ago. If he had, if they’d chosen to stay there together, they could even now be living happily, hidden from the world in the woods, possibly watching their children explore amongst the trees. They could have spent the last ten years lying in each other’s arms night after night instead of Hermione alone in her bed and Draco in a cold grave.
But she knew Alvida was right; Hermione would have returned regardless of the offer. She never would have tossed aside her duty to Harry and the rest of the world to help end the war. Even in this heartbreaking moment she did not regret her decision, knowing that it had led to Voldemort’s downfall. If she had been given the choice all those years ago, the regret from that decision might have killed her after Draco's death. Even then he had been protecting her, saving her from an impossible choice. He had shouldered that burden alone, knowing what it would have cost her to be forced to decide. He'd done everything for her...
Gilaude strode back in with a silver tray laden with a steaming tea kettle, porcelain cups, and biscuits. Alvida thanked him in her smooth French and he bowed himself out. Alvida reached over and poured the dark tea into the elegant cups and handed one to Hermione.
“Sugar?” she asked. Hermione shook her head. She needed the sharp shock to her system. Her head was still reeling from what she had heard.
Alvida’s lips were pressed together sadly as she handed Hermione her tea, her own hands falling into her lap. "I am so sorry for the pain you have had to endure, Hermione. Your life has not been an easy one. That is why I began writing the book."
Hermione looked up at her in awe which Alvida mistook for shock. "You found it, did you not?"
Wordlessly, she reached down into the bag at her feet pulled the tome out. Alvida smiled, looking down at it. "It has grown. I hope it served you well."
"I wouldn't be here without it," she said, her voice thick with tears. "I am so grateful..."
"It is I who is grateful to you," Alvida said, placing her hand on Hermione's arm. "You have given my life purpose. Your strength and courage has made all of this possible. I would never have put forth the effort I have in perfecting the Time Turner without the burning desire to see you put it to use."
"Do you mean to say...you did this...for me?" Hermione asked breathlessly, overwhelmed.
The beautiful witch smiled tightly. "Yes, Hermione. I knew the sorrow you would feel once Draco was gone. I have never seen two souls so interwoven. You were not meant to be without one another. You were empty before he loved you and he was naught but an echo before you brought him to life. Your two destinies, both entwined, were at war with one another. This is the only way we can fulfill them both. I assume you are here to ask for my assistance?" she asked, at Hermione's bewildered features.
"Yes," she whispered, her head whirling at Alvida’s words. "Our destinies, you said two..."
Alvida met her eye. "You two were meant to be together. You were destined to be Guardians. We do not give out those stones lightly, my dear.”
Hermione eyed her, bewildered. “What are you saying?”
“Guardians are created in pairs. Once you find your mate, your powers may finally be fully unleashed. Did you not notice that after you and Draco became one you were able to do magic you’d never imagined?”
Dumbstruck, Hermione nodded.
“It is how I came to be as powerful as I am. When I met Phillipe, I knew there was something special about our connection. His mother was a Guardian as well and he knew the moment he saw me. It took him much longer to convince me than it took Draco to convince you,” Alvida grinned, her eyes sparkling with the memories as Hermione blushed.
“You mean Comte le Brun?” Hermione sputtered, wishing to overlook how quickly she’d fallen for Draco’s charm, and Alvida nodded. “I thought you didn’t meet him until you- well, Constancia- was in France?”
“There is no record of our relationship,” she explained. “We were never able to wed properly, though I had always hoped someday…”
“Where is he now?” Hermione asked, looking toward the doorway as if the man might materialize suddenly.
“We have been separated for many years,” she said, the words obviously painful. “Not long after Phillipe and I became Guardians I was drawn to Sari and Milo. They had already come together, though they had no idea what their power meant. After I taught them I became reckless, throwing caution to the winds in my pursuit of other likes us. Phillipe urged me to be more vigilant, but went along with my desires, relying on my heightened Senses in order to find and train more like us. Unfortunately, this garnered me much attention from the Trackers. We were hunted. One night it became particularly violent. I was viciously attacked while I was with child. Phillipe worked on us for so long but he couldn’t save…”
Alvida was forced to swallow several times before she was able to speak again, the memory obviously difficult. Hermione’s breath caught at the knowledge of Alvida’s loss. She reached out her hand to comfort the older woman who put on a brave front and continued, squeezing Hermione’s hand tightly. “Phillipe begged me to stay hidden and after everything… I couldn’t refuse him. He built that cabin for me, put every enchantment possible on it. When I grew restless, he began making records of my dreams and prophecies and slipped away in the dead of night to pursue them on his own, begging me to stay hidden as my power was too important to lose. We correspond frequently; each vision sends him on another mission. Until now, it had been too dangerous for me to come out of hiding. Thanks to you and Draco, we can once again be reunited. He is set to arrive in a fortnight, he will be most aggrieved to have missed you.”
Hermione took a moment to digest all of this new information. Alvida’s hardships pained her, but she was glad to know that she’d done something to alleviate some of that agony. She knew that Alvida had a daughter almost instantly after being wed to the Comte and that comforted her knowing that her friend would soon be graced with the motherhood the Trackers had stolen from her.
“So, our second destiny was to be Guardians?” Hermione asked, still confused.
“Yes, Hermione,” she said soothingly. “That is why you were brought here, to this time. In your own time you would never have come together being as torn apart as you were. You needed to find each other, to see what you could be together. Sari, Milo, and I…we were here to help you realize that potential. When I saw your prophecy, I knew you were from the future, that is why I began my work on the Time Turner. It wasn’t until the night Milo and Sari informed me of your arrival was I struck with your second. Even Milo saw you for what you were before I, that is why he gave Draco that stone. I had known your destinies were important, but I was not prepared for what I saw. Tell me, Hermione, have there been stirrings lately, Dark magic cropping up once more?”
“Yes,” she whispered, shocked that Alvida knew what had made Harry and the rest of the Aurors even more harried that usual. Random Muggle murders with no leads, Muggle-borns found brutally slaughtered in their beds, whispers across the country of another uprising…
“Hermione, I am afraid your battle is far from over,” the older witch informed her, making Hermione’s heart sink. “The Eripio has been extinguished for hundreds of years. You and Draco are the only ones who can bring them back, who can put an end to this coming darkness before it even takes hold. It is imperative that we save him.”
“You’ll help me?” Hermione asked breathlessly, her fingers tightening on the porcelain still sitting in her lap.
“Yes, Hermione,” Alvida said, the words washing over her like a flood of heat. “We must save Draco if we are to prevent the darkness from taking over once more after you fought so hard to be rid of it. Your powers will grow beyond anything you can possibly imagine. Together, you will do great things, even greater than what you have already done with recreating the Time Turner. I will do anything in my power to see that you fulfill this last prophecy."
Tears broke through Hermione’s carefully constructed dam and coursed down her face unchecked, more moved than she'd ever been. The daunting news of yet more fighting was overcome by the image of Draco in her arms once more and the knowledge that her instincts had steered her true. Draco was meant to be with her, they were meant to be together, the fate of the world relied on her and Alvida undoing what had been done all those years ago.
"Thank you," Hermione breathed, overcome with gratitude, unable to think of anything else she could say that would be adequate for the gift Alvida was giving her. "Thank you."
Alvida pulled the wretched girl into her arms. "It pains me to see you so, Hermione, but your suffering is almost over. Now, drink that tea right up, I will have Gilaud prepare a room for you. You need some decent rest before we begin planning. Gilaud!”
Hermione took a sip of her now cold tea. A wave of serenity hit her instantly and she knew it had been laced. She gladly drank the rest down while Alvida spoke rapidly to her servant who quickly moved to do her bidding, calling out orders to others as he hurried up the stairs.
Already feeling lethargic, Hermione allowed herself to be pulled her to her feet.
"Come, my dear, you will rest dreamlessly and on the morrow we will begin our preparations."
Hermione smiled happily, the euphoria from the tea easing her tense muscles and peeling apart the constant ball of grief that was lodged in her chest. Alvida gave her one more swift hug before dragging her upstairs to a room whose fireplace was already roaring, a maid tucking a hot water bottle between the sheets while Gilaud strode over to her, a nightgown in his arms.
Alvida dismissed them and left herself after placing a comforting hand against Hermione's cheek, her eyes full of emotion.
As the door clicked closed behind her, Hermione sank to the floor, overcome by happiness. She had been so worried Alvida would reject her plan, would fight her, tell her it was against every rule of Time Travel. But instead she'd welcomed her with open arms, having orchestrated the entire thing. A sob wrenched from her chest as relief enveloped her.
She was going to see Draco again.

…

XOXO
RynStar15
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Breaking the Chain