Yesterday is Tomorrow (Everything is Connected)

Ten: the Hardest Part

Yesterday is Tomorrow (everything is connected)

X

*

"The hardest part about living in the past is that everything you tell everybody will be a lie. It's possible to forget who you really are, and you'll want to reach out, make a connection. I made that mistake. If you get too close, you forget what you came for."

- Al Templeton, 11/22/63, 5: "The Truth"

*

Everything came in blurs as they raced toward the Hospital Wing. Hermione smelled the damp, dewy air; there was a chill; the stone of the castle under her feet was hard and uneven; there were shouts and cries of alarm from the portraits as they ran past, Barty's still form bobbing in the air as Dumbledore controlled the spell.

At her side, Severus Snape stood pale.

Then, the Matron, Madam Pomfrey, was there, her wand in her hand, mouth already moving and running off diagnostic spells, one after another that they were almost one long string of Latin. Her face - tense, with prominent lines already carved in it - deepened further as she turned to Hermione and Snape and barked, "What happened to him?"

"I would like to know as well," said Dumbledore in a tightly controlled voice.

Hermione ignored that as she turned to Madam Pomfrey. "Can you help him?"

"If I knew what I attacked him!" the woman replied, in exasperation. "Why, it looks like a werewolf mauled him, but there aren't any wolves around Hogwarts!"

Hermione slowly moved her head to level a glare at Dumbledore, who did fidget for a moment. She then turned back and said, quietly, "It was a werewolf."

"Goodness!" The matron then glanced between her and Snape. "What about the two of you?"

"Barty first," replied Hermione, firmly.

Pomfrey nodded and led the still floating and unconscious form of Barty away, down the lines of empty beds until she reached the end. There, she drew the curtain and began her work. Hermione's eyes tracked her progress, and she locked them on the white curtain that separated her from her best friend.

At her side, Snape was clenching and unclenching his hands - a nervous gesture, she assumed; it wasn't long before Dumbledore turned away from looking at them in disappointment to go to Madam Pomfrey's quarters. Within minutes, both Professor Slughorn and Professor Flitwick were breathlessly arriving in the hospital wing.

Flitwick made his way directly to Hermione, wringing his hands and looking her up and down as he squeaked, "Oh, my dear, my dear! Are you hurt?"

Hermione shook her head, slowly, and found herself being steered to a nearby bed where she could still see the drawn curtain. Flitwick levitated himself up and sat next to her, taking one of her hands in his and patting it every so often. Behind her, Hermione could hear Slughorn speaking quietly to Snape, although the other teen refused to answer.

A pricking of her magic warned Hermione that someone was staring at her. She turned her head a bit and caught Dumbledore's mouth turned down in a deep frown under his white mustache. Hastily, Hermione turned her head away, throwing up whatever shields she had learned as a Ministry employee to combat against a Legilimency master's probe.

Dumbledore's frown deepened.

Snape's shaking slowly started to fade, until he was sitting on his bed next to Hermione, staring down at his hands, encrusted in dirt and blood. His long hair was dishevelled and - Hermione bit her lips to stop an inappropriate laugh - there was a twig stuck near the back. He was paler than normal, and his robes were torn, covered in dirt and grass stains.