Chapter Six
…is worse than no time at all.
The nervy, frosty good nights between the two girls that evening, the trip to Red Lion Square, and the departure for, and arrival back in Cornwall, were like strands of incoherent thoughts that swirled thickly and fast in a Pensieve for Hermione. And now she was in H.Rashleigh’s room, sitting dazed under the bed’s canopy, like a bird stuck in a thicket in a tempest. Lost and afraid. Yes, she was afraid. Her other self stood before her, paced, stood, paced. Hermione snarled. The other Hermione jumped and snarled back.
“You shouldn’t have said that. We’re here for that blasted portrait alone. I just want to go back to Ron. I don’t give a damn about Cicely and Leontes’s own love story! Mine is centuries away and it’s barely started!”
“I don’t know how Ron and Harry could have put up with you.”
“I am you.”
Hermione burst into tears.
“Don’t do this, there’s no time for this.” And yet after a second, their bawling rose in a chorus in the room.
A maid knocking on the room stunned them into silence. Hermione dismissed the maid, suppressing a hiccough.
“You know, I was so furious with what you said because, well, because you’re right. I”we”wouldn’t have landed in this mess if I just stopped to think that it didn’t matter if the picture was ruined. Ron would have been mad but…”
“…he never stays that way for long. We never stay that way for long.”
“Yes. Oh, Merlin.”
“Let’s take a walk outside. I want the cold. Maybe when we return””
“”the Century Crosser is waiting in the foyer.”
“We sound like Fred and George.”
“We’re one self, not just twins.”
Hermione choked on a sob. “I miss them.”
“And Ron.” Hermione sighed.
Of one mind, they pointed their wands at each other, and they disappeared. The only sign of their presence was the door’s swinging open, and close.
In one corner of the Rashleighs’ northern hayloft, Leontes had his court. His easels stood around as if they were listening to him, or scolding him. The light from the wide-open windows almost made the many eyes glare, so Leontes had learned not to look; he just felt. It was enough. Emilia was with him; irate, but with him.
Something stirred the chill air, and along with it came a whiff of rosewater. Leontes looked up. He jumped when he saw her there.
“I beg your pardon. I didn’t know you were here. I will leave now.”
“No, please stay, Cicely.”
“What for?” But she didn’t sound bitter.
“What else?”
“I told you I would never sit for you again.”
“I told you I would trust you. We break our words.” Leontes smiled wanly as Cicely perched on an upturned milk bucket.
“I killed her, Leontes.”
“What?”
A cloud passed over the windows, and the light from the weak winter sun dimmed in the hayloft.
“Emilia. I’m a witch, Leontes. Your sister knows it. Please don’t be alarmed.”
Leontes shook his head and nodded at the same time, incredulous, bewildered and impatient.
“One day, shortly after Clementine’s engagement. I wandered off alone and climbed a tree”this tree.” She pointed at the picture of the black-clad girl leaning against an oak trunk. “You and Emilia came shortly; you didn’t see me. Nor did you feel the spell that shot off my wand to her chest.
“I don’t even know what spell it was. I was just watching you, aching for her, because I could see she was utterly sad, I did not utter nor think any incantation. And then”we came back a year later and found out she’d died. Th-this is my secret, Leontes, the reason why I couldn’t bear your affection.”
Leontes shook his head. “I can only digest so much, Cicely. I don’t comprehend what you’ve said in the last minute, I couldn’t grasp the allusions and facts, if allusions and facts they are. But Emilia died of a long-borne disease of the blood. It ran in her father’s family. Where do you figure in it?”
The two Hermiones sitting in the straw-covered floor exchanged looks, smiling at Cicely’s dazed face, in spite of the earlier words about not caring about other people’s loves and lives.
“That’s settled then. Get up, our playing audience is over. Look at all these portraits, we might get lucky still.”
One Hermione rose; the other tried to pull her back down.
“No.”
“What?”
“Are you insane? Do you realize what we almost did or what we might have already done?”
“Now I know how Ron and Harry feel sometimes.”
Hermione rolled her eyes and gave her other self’s wrist another tug. She felt like tearing her hair out. She fought to keep her voice down. “We can’t change anything at all in William Rashleigh’s life! What if it all led to his not making Time-turners? What would we have done to save Sirius?”
The cloud obscuring the sun moved past; light flooded the loft, illuminating the glowing faces of Leontes and Cicely, smiling at each other as one painted and the other sat.
The Hermione on her feet took one look at them and swayed.
The Hermione on her haunches tried to pull her upright but it was too late.
Like dominoes, the easels leaned and dropped onto one another, stopping only when the farthermost portrait hit the small shelf of paints and oils by the wall.
“They just fell!” Cicely cried, instantly righting the easels with her wand. Leontes stared open-mouthed.
“You really are a w-witch then?”
“Yes, dear. All the MacMillans and my family are wizards and witches as well.”
Leontes just let out a sort of strangled half-chuckle, half-gasp. But Cicely was looking the portrait which had fallen onto the paints and oils.
“Oh, no, I can’t fix this.”
Leontes blinked and joined her by the picture, which he picked up and propped against the floor and wall by their feet.
“It was not you, it was not like. Somehow, I painted you less beautiful and more ethereal than you really are. This was when I was upset about you; perhaps my hands tried a stab at making me hate and forget you. A very fruitless stab it was, too. When I finished it, it only made me ache to paint you as you are. I followed you to London, intending to see you with my sister so I could capture and store your happy face in my memory””
“My happy face, is that all? And just in your memory?”
“You know the answer to that, Miss Prewett. Are you certain you don’t have me bespelled?”
“If you are, you wouldn’t be standing here embracing me, but sitting down in that chair trying another stab at my portrait. But as it is, I just think about Hermione’s words. I wanted to see this portrait, to see if you had vented any spite and mistrust. But what does it matter if you have, indeed? You had every right to. I was at fault.”
“No more.”
ΩΩΩ
The dimness of dusk settled on Bodmin Moor shortly after dinner, and the two Hermiones, only one of them visible, sat on H.Rashleigh’s bedroom couch, trying to look cheerful as Cicely brushed her hair at the dressing table, bubbling over her as yet secret engagement with Leontes.
“It’s all thanks to you, dear. Your outburst at the Lufkins’ certainly brought us to our senses.”
Hermione smiled; she could have sobbed heartily though.
“I wish I could lend horses to time! They say it flies when one is in love, but no, it crawls so hideously slow!”
“Invent a spell then, or some trinket so that people can play with time as they wish or need,” Hermione said in a rush.
Cicely stared at her. “My word, you spout off the most wonderful ideas lately. Whyever not?” And laughing, Cicely picked her wand and waved it at Hermione.
“This will be silly, but I only know so much of Latin…Tempus Fugitus!”
A loud groaning sound reverberated in the room, and Hermione felt the force of the spell knock her onto her other self. They stared at each other, and at Cicely, who was looking at them horrified. “No, I didn’t, no, I didn’t! I didn’t!”
She dropped her wand and brush and sprang to her feet, her hands held in front of her as if feeling for Hermione in the couch.
“But we’re right here, what is she doing?”
“The spell worked. We’re going home.”
“But we’re still here!”
Cicely was breathing in sobs now, still chanting “I didn’t, I didn’t!” She lay on the floor and cried for a few seconds, and then she pulled herself up, picked up her skirts and ran for the door.
But it opened before she reached it, and Hermione Rashleigh came in.
“Well, isn’t this the strangest business! My father and mother and brother insist I’ve been to London and only scolded me for the state of my gown, when instead I’ve been expecting them to cry all over me and squeeze me to death in relief at seeing me again! But no, not even a drop of tear from my mother. But I see, you, at least, have been grieving for me, Cicely.”
Cicely and the two Hermiones stared at the girl. And then with an anguished cry Cicely rushed to her and hugged her. Hermione Rashleigh returned the embrace, preening.
“I’m glad to see you, too, dear. But really, you must all forgive me for not being the least disturbed that I caused you all distress, because how can I be anything but happy”how can anyone be anything but positively blissful, Cicely! When they have found their love?”
“Oh, sit down,” Cicely said weakly, plopping onto the bed. “You gave me a fright. I thought I had done something dreadful to you. What happened? Tell me so I can reverse whatever it is.”
“What are you talking about, Cicely? I don’t understand you. But as to what happened to me, why I’ve been in the woods these last few days. It’s a little confused in my mind, but I got lost in there”I don’t know how. I remember waking up and seeing a ribbon pointing into the trees, so I followed it, thinking it was a plan between ourselves.” Cicely gasped. “But it is not so dreadful, dear, don’t worry. I was saved. I fell quite hopelessly into a bog, but I was saved.” Hermione Rashleigh smiled mysteriously.
The two Hermiones exchanged looks again. Cicely, apparently thinking that this was her fault, just nodded at her friend to continue, which H. Rashleigh enthusiastically did.
“Did you know there was a cabin in there? The man who found me lived there, or at least, was there for the time being. He said he was hiding from relatives who wanted to uproot him from a place where he had already taken root too deeply. It pained him. We talked about a lot of things while my broken ankle mended. And he took care of me. We parted on promises of love and constancy…” H. Rashleigh paused to giggle and pat her flushed cheeks. “He will come tomorrow to talk to my father. He’s an angel.”
By this time, the two Hermiones noticed the room flicker before them. The walls and the edges of the surfaces wavered and blurred, as if they saw it through a heat wave. They did feel warm; and they could sense a…tingling sensation spreading from their stomachs to the tips of their toes.
Cicely tried to smile at H. Rashleigh. It came out more like a grimace. No doubt she thought she had addled her friends brains completely. “What’s his name then?”
The two Hermiones only had time to hear their counterpart answer “Leonard Granger” before the room suddenly spun and darkened and the tingling sensation changed abruptly into the exploding feel of being thrown into space and air.
When the world stilled, they opened their eyes and breathed air thick with dust. They coughed, and more eddies of the tiny dust motes swirled before their faces.
By the slats of weak light making it through the shutters of the window, they knew it was morning. And by the dust and neglect around them, they knew they were back in the Rashleigh Manor of the present. They looked at each other and smiled.
“That girl is our ancestor.”
They laughed.
“I still remember the side loggia where she went out to meet Cicely. We can easily go through there and await the arrival of Ron’s portrait.”
“I thought we’ve settled this.”
“Oh, well, centuries away, even Ron’s fury is something precious. But right now, it only induces trepidation. And on our honeymoon, too!”
“Never mind. What is one picture worth? Ginny can easily recopy that photograph, and I can just as easily commission it again to someone more intelligent to know to cast Impervius on his portraits. Ron’s put a lot of thought to it, though, and I’ll make sure to let him know I love him for that. I’m grateful I have the chance.”
They cast Tempus Fugitus again, this time concentrating and controlling its leap to only a few hours and not almost three centuries. From the peaceful morning the second before, there was suddenly the strong rain beating down on the house.
“You go first. You disappeared first.”
It felt surreal in the least, as Hermione received a hug from her other self. And then she was alone in the room. She waited ten seconds, and then she opened the door and descended the stairs to the old ballroom.
She had taken her time walking, savoring the breath of the present air, so that when she arrived, it was just in time to see her past self disappear in the Century-Crosser’s chair.
“You didn’t save the portrait.” Mr Rashleigh said evenly.
“No.”
“Don’t expect me to help you with your own picture.”
“I don’t want it anymore.”
“Deceiving wench!”
“In what have I deceived you, sir? While trying to salvage your portrait, I only came to the realization that you can’t change your life by going back in the past. You only have the present. I suggest you make use of it and accept your own mistakes and even atone for them if you could. This is what I’ll do. I admit I’m thankful for your Time-turner, it has helped us save lives. But the time you have bottled here is useless for your happiness. You are your own steward, not some picture whose subject lived centuries ago.”
“Get out.”
Watchin came and pulled Hermione out of the huge empty hall.
The rain had stopped and the moon preened as if she drew pleasure at how the wind had banished the clouds obscuring her reign. The demolition equipment around the manor hulked in the sad and neglected garden. But as Hermione walked down the path, she heard a car’s motor rumbling from the gates.
When it passed her, it stopped. Hermione almost gasped. For the woman who peered out of her window looked like Cicely, only in jeans and a blue cashmere.
“Hi! Were you visiting my great-uncle?”
“Um, yes. I’m Hermione Weasley, staying at the Grange.”
“Weasley, did you say? Why, we’re related. I’m Emilia Dufarge, a Rashleigh before I was married.” They shook hands.
“I’m only recently married to the Weasleys myself””
“Hermione Granger, aren’t you? And you married Ron Weasley?”
“Yes. You read the Prophet, I see.”
Emilia laughed. “You don’t like it much, do you? I suppose you don’t like the publicity anymore. We used to hate it too, when my great-uncle’s trinket was newly invented…What’s that you have there, by the way?”
“Um, a gift from my husband”” But Emilia, who had already stepped out of her tiny car, had already taken it and held it at arms length in the bright moonlight.
“Oh my… I’m sorry. Forgive me, but I never was good at being properly detached”is this the reason why you visited my great-uncle?”
Hermione smiled. “Yes, but I changed my mind. I won’t be a coward about Ron’s anger, I’ve faced it for years anyway. And this time I’m at fault, so I’ll take it with good grace.”
“That’s sweet. But dear, if you really want to restore this, you just call me.”
Hermione almost swayed on the spot at the great wave of excitement and relief that flooded her. “You can do it?”
“Yes. It’s a surprise for my uncle, he’d been brooding over this ruined picture in the attic for ages, so I did a little research, went on some trips, pulled a lot of arms. And here I am, ready to butter him up into renovating the manor by fixing his painting.”
Hermione only had interest in what she had learned. “Can you fix this?”
“In a wink. It’s a simple enough theory of delving into the picture’s subjects and cajoling them to rearrange themselves, the color, the oils, even the canvas. It will be easy on naturals and stills, but in here, well, I know you and Ron, so”” Emilia pointed her wand at the picture and muttered some words. The smudges shifted until they were gone and only the sharp and beautiful lines of the picture remained.
“Oh Merlin, how can I repay you for this, Emilia?”
“Look at that,” Emilia was smiling at the portrait. “That’s something. Seeing it back is enough payment, Hermione. Now, about that picture of my uncle’s, that will be a bit complicated, because who would know about that girl? She lived centuries ago!”
Emilia jumped at Hermione’s squeal. “I can help you about her!”
She felt him gently wrap an arm around her waist and she couldn’t stop the sob or her instinctive movement to wrap her own arms around him and melt into his warmth.
“I’m so sorry, Hermione.”
She opened her eyes. He wiped the tears that fell from her lashes.
It was morning again, and the birds were making a very rowdy cheer outside. Hermione buried her face in Ron’s chest and shut out everything else but his presence, there beside her, holding her.
“It took me longer because…Merlin, Hermione, I could get so unlucky sometimes, you know that? Hmpf. I tried to contact the portraitist I hired to stop him from sending the picture”I knew what you might think about it. But it seems everyone’s on holiday! And then Mum cornered me and scolded me like I’m thirteen because I left for work. I wonder if she’ll ever remove my hand from that blasted clock of hers.”
Hermione giggled here. The picture of Molly berating her son never lost its humor. Ron’s chest rumbled as he joined her laughter. “She got the sponsor, too, mind you. And even flooed his wife.
“So what did you do I while I was off getting harangued by my mother?”
“Nothing. I met the neighbors.”
“Did you know, we’re related to the Rashleighs by blood? Mum only just told me, said she didn’t want us getting puffed up about it like Ernie.” Ron rolled his eyes. “We would have liked this branch of the family better than the Black branch.”
Hermione smiled. She wondered how Ron would react if she told him she’d met about a dozen of Chocolate Frog Famous Wizards and Witches.
“You’re so quiet; are you alright, Hermione? I’m really sorry for leaving you. At least our sponsor had been cured from his honeymoon busting tendencies by Mum.”
“I’m fine. I’m just glad I’m back”I mean, you’re back. And Ron?”
“Hmm?”
“I love you.”
He grinned goofily and tucked her deeper into his chest, nuzzling her hair and neck and kissing her soundly. “I love you, too.”
Author’s Notes: I know it isn’t necessary, but who am I to know when I’m the writer and not the reader? I hope it’s okay to tell you, dear reader, that Hermione did succeed in making William Rashleigh’s life better.
Originally, Cicely and Leontes had been joined in an unhappy marriage, causing Cicely’s estrangement from her family, which explains why Ron didn’t know that they were related to the Rashleighs at first.
After Hermione’s adventure and wise words, however, the couple married felicitously, the estrangement was cancelled, and so the connection was treasured and esteemed through the generations of Prewetts even before the honor and fame of the Time-turner business.
Emilia Dufarge is a direct descendant of Leontes and Cicely. Their happy marriage resulted in happy children, and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. This included William, though he’s too surly to have his own family. And because Hermione refused to fix Cicely’s ruined portrait, she didn’t remove that germ of longing in William to be able to go back in time. Also, Cicely’s knack of spell-invention was another factor.
My sources: For the dinners and the breakfast: historicfood.com, georgianindex.net and umich.edu/~ece/student_projects/food/rules.htm
For the London addresses and general culture of the era: georgianindex.net
For the fashion: englishcountrydancing.org
And of course, Wikipedia and the Harry Potter Lexicon.
And Magical Maeve for the prompt. And Tang Sweet Ponkan for my fuel. ^_^