FIC: "Time On His Side" for nimrod_9

[bethbethbeth]

Recipient: nimrod_9
Author: kinky_kneazle
Title: Time On His Side
Rating: R (for adult themes)
Pairings: Viktor Krum/ Minerva McGonagall
Word Count: ~12,000
Warnings/Content Information (Highlight to View): *Character Death (kind of) *.
Summary: Minerva met Viktor when she was six and he was thirty-three. Viktor met Minerva when he was seventeen and she was sixty-nine. Somehow they make it work
Author's Notes: Inspired by Audrey Niffenegger's The Time Traveler's Wife. nimrod_9, this idea seemed to come to me out of nowhere, and ended up being a real struggle to write. With love to my beta, F, for making sure this made sense, walking the dog while I wrote and convincing me to stick to the ending that fit the piece. Many thanks also to bethbethbeth for her endless patience with my inability to get through the editing process.

---

Who forces time is pushed back by time; who yields to time finds time on his side. ~The Talmud

Before the dance lesson she was a part of the background. Between dragons and Hermione and Karkaroff acting strange I barely had time to learn the names of the houses. Minerva McGonagall was a disapproving presence in tartan. Potter’s champion. That was all.

Then she offered to teach us how to dance for the Yule Ball. She embarrassed a red-headed kid first, then tried to encourage everyone to partner up without success. Finally she turned to me, slouching against a wall. The only place I moved with grace was in the sky, but I dutifully took her hand when she held it out.

Her smile as she positioned my hands was at once tremulous and tender. In fact, she smiled like someone who knew something that I didn’t.

She guided me around the floor and dismissed all the times I stepped on her toes. Then her hand in mine tightened before she stepped back.

“Thank you, Viktor,” she said. It was the only time that year she used my first name.

August 4, 2010

Working for the British Ministry of Magic was something of a dream job so soon after I'd finished my apprenticeship. They had a room damaged in the war; a room full of sand. It was something that had never been seen since Masters of Time began recording their work.

But working with the sands of time is dangerous. The sand is so fine it sneaks in the cracks of your clothes and absorbs into your skin. The sands exist in a separate spot in the space-time continuum. They resist being contained, they resist magic, they even resist a Muggle vacuum cleaner. They swirl and eddy if someone moves through them, attempting to cling to some bare skin, but attempt to grab a handful and they'll slide off your gloves as if they weren't there.

The sands of time are dangerous , and I should not have taken off my mask, but that day it kept getting clogged and I couldn’t breathe. I should have stepped out to get a new one. Called it a day and started fresh after a weekend of dinner with Oliver Wood and a pick-up Quidditch game with Potter and his friends.

I should have known better.

One of my Muggle-born friends always spoke about occupational health and safety. She would have called that a failure of safety regulations. In reality I was just being a bloody idiot, so when the door opened and the sand swirled around the spot where I knelt, I could do nothing but breathe in.

Hermione Weasley’s eyes were the last thing I saw before I faded away.

September 1, 1941

The ground under my feet was moving. It was pitch-black. A distinctive whistle told me I was on a train, which put me any time after about 1830. That was a lot of time to cover and still didn’t explain why the train was moving in the dark.

“Hello?” I asked, but there was no answer. Alone. In the dark. On a train. I sent a silent prayer to Circe that it wasn’t a Muggle train. “Lumos.”

I closed my eyes against the bright light then cracked them open to examine my surroundings. It was just a regular train carriage. A little old-fashioned perhaps, but it could have been in use in Wizarding Britain at any stage in the last eighty years.

“Nox!” a female voice said and the light from my wand wavered. “Nox!”

The door bang opened and a girl in knee socks and Hogwart’s robes stood there. “Put the light out now, it’s dangerous! Honestly, a Muggle war going on and a dark wizard on the loose and you treat it like a normal day.”

“Today isn’t normal.” The girl looked awfully familiar, but I couldn't place the face.

“Vikky?” A braid hit my nose as she jumped at me. “Turn the light off, silly, and I’ll explain when you are.”

“Professor McGonagall?”

“Professor, hey? You’ve never told me that before.” She pulled off her cloak and threw it over our heads, then pulled me towards the seat. “Here, this way you can still see me, but the light’s blocked. You’re on the Hogwarts train, 1941. Need a history lesson?”

“How do you know me?” My brain was scrambling. She looked different without her tartan and disapproving glare, but this was clearly Professor McGonagall and if it really was 1941 then she didn’t meet me for another fifty years. I wasn’t even born for another thirty.

“Wait, this is-“ she stopped, gathering her thoughts. “You told me this would happen. It’s even in my diary, I think, but with becoming prefect and how responsible I need to be given Grindelwald and the war I just plum forgot. I’m sorry.”

I was still trying to catch up with her. “Professor McGonagall?”

“You should call me Min; you’ve called me that for years.”

“Min?”

“For Minerva. There was just an accident, right? You swallowed something you shouldn’t?”

I nodded mutely.

“You end up jumping around a lot, but last time you visited you told me that it settles down eventually.”

“You shouldn’t be telling me this,” I told her. “Bad things happen -”

“To people who mess about with time. I know. You've told me. You also told me that Masters of Time aren’t affected the same way. Time moves differently for them.”

“Does it?”

She shrugged, shoulders flopping back down in careless abandon. “You’re the Master.” She reached forward and gripped my hand. “I haven’t seen you since the summer after first year, and I do my OWLS this year. I was starting to think you were a figment of my imagination, but you’re not.”

I extinguished the light and sat on the train wondering if Albus Dumbledore was at Hogwarts and if he’d be able to help. Or maybe it was just my time.

The Sands of Time were not known for their forgiveness, and even barring the sort of complete catastrophe I’d experienced, it was normal for a Master to disappear at some point, leaving only an ancient piece of parchment, or a hidden diary or some ochre smeared onto a cave wall as a message for the apprentice he’d left behind. Occasionally there was a treatise on time published by the Master, however most chose to pursue a different career in their new time. My own mentor had faded two years ago, but had let me know he was organising an uprising against the Ottoman Empire and he hoped that I’d be as happy when my time came.

I was different, though. I’d taken off my mask and breathed the sands in. This wasn’t just years of the sands being absorbed slowly into the skin. It had hit my bloodstream in bulk through my lungs and if anyone had once known how that was going to affect me, they were probably as lost as I was.

She held my hand and chattered happily about the Harpies and being a prefect and how she was hoping for an outstanding on her Transfigurations OWL.

“I need to do rounds,” she said suddenly. “Stay right here. Don’t go anywhere.”

I wanted to stay. Wanted the comfort of someone I knew, as different as she was in this time, but without her there to ground me it didn’t take long for my consciousness to fade.


April 29, 1931

I landed heavily on my buttocks with no idea of where I was. It was a spring day, I thought. The sun was shining, though weakly. Flowers were budding, I could hear a bird singing and I was in the middle of a herd of sheep. I stood slowly.

I was near the top of a hill and I could see a small town house at the bottom. Between me and the house there was empty space and sheep. A lot of sheep. In the middle of that empty space was a very young girl. She was on all fours and was looking intently at a flower. Her hand reached out slowly, and a butterfly flew away. She watched it for a moment, then pounced. She missed, but she was a determined little thing. She pounced again and again, looking for all the world like a kitten going after a moth. Finally the butterfly flew over her head and as her eyes followed it she saw me.

She stopped.

"Hello," she said.

"Hello."

"Who are you?"

"I'm Viktor. Who are you?"

"I'm Minnie. Minnie McGonagall."

"Minnie?" I smothered a grin at the idea of the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts calling herself Minnie.

"It's short for Minerva, which is too long and makes me sound old. Da says it's a nickname. Do you have a nickname?"

I shook my head. "Everyone calls me Viktor."

"I shall call you Vikky."

"Shall you?"

She nodded. "You have a funny voice."

"It's called an accent. And you do, too."

"Why do you have an accent?"

"I'm from another country."

"How did you get here?"

"I had an accident with time."

"Oh." She looked confused, but I didn't think I could explain this to a child as young as she was. "Will you help me watch the sheep?"

"I think I shall, kitten." I spread out my robe and sat down to rest for a moment. "How old are you, Min?"

"I'm six. And it's Min-eee."


May 2, 2000

I stumbled as I became aware of where I was, but a hand gripped my arm and kept me standing. Arthur Weasley smiled at me.

"Alright, Viktor?" When I nodded he motioned towards a woman in the front row. "She probably needs you."

In the crowd of people before me I recognized the black hair severe in its bun. I walked silently to the front as a pompous man in dark robes talked about war and peace and sacrifice. I slid in beside her and she gripped my hand tight enough for my fingertips to go tingly. It was after the war; I wasn't sure how long after but Minerva's hair had grey streaking through it that wasn't there during the Triwizard Cup, and lines were beginning to sneak across her face.

We stood until the speeches were done and Potter cut a ribbon dedicating the Fallen Heroes Memorial Garden. Then the crowd surged forward and Minerva held me back waiting until the space around us cleared. She walked in the other direction, towards the lake.

"Thank you," she said. "For giving an old woman comfort." She squeezed my hand and let it go. I felt oddly bereft.

"Anything I can do. We become friends, I think."

She smiled that smile again, like she knew something I didn't, but it quickly faded.

"I know this is only your third jump. You must still be very confused about what's going on."

"Jump?"

"That's what you always called each episode. Though I guess you got the name from me. One of the many paradoxes of your life, Viktor."

"Does it end?"

"Everything ends, Viktor. But yes. The jumping will stop."

"How did you know this was the third one?"

"One day you'll give me a list. I think it's a long time from now, though. At least in your chronology."

I watched the ripples that the giant squid made while hunting for his next meal. Minerva hadn't let go of my hand and a thumb kept moving in long strokes. Her presence let me breathe again. Maybe it was because I still thought of her as a Professor, especially in this setting, but I felt an urge to beg for help.

"I don't know what to do," was the only confession I allowed myself.

"Viktor, you're a highly accomplished Master of Time and you have always been expecting this." Her long fingers cupped his cheek. "You hold on for dear life until it settles and then you find your way in your new time."

"Can you tell me where I'll go next? How long this will last for?"

"That will spoil the surprise." Her amusement came through and I managed a small smile at the sound of it. "Why don't we talk about something else?"

"How many years since -?" I motioned to the stark white marble that marked the entrance to the garden. A phoenix was carved from the top of it.

"It ended two years ago today."

"I'm sorry." I hadn't been in England at the end of the war, but I followed the events wondering what was happening to my friends over here. The emotional scars had still been clearly visible the next time I visited - a celebrity Quidditch match three years after the war, raising funds for war orphans.

"It's the third war I've lived through, Viktor. This one has not been the most devastating, at least not for me personally."

A hand dropped on my shoulder and I looked up at Arthur Weasley again.

"How long are you here for?" he asked.

"You know he doesn't know that, Arthur."

"You do," the red-head said to her. She only shook her head.

"Long enough for a pick-up game?" She nodded. She looked like she was reminiscing.

A hard-fought battle against Harry Potter ensued. It was after I caught the snitch that the light started to fade. It was becoming all too familiar.

August 12, 1938

I was still wearing Quidditch robes and gripping a broom when I came to, lying face-down among the heather. A small girl was sitting beside me, her nose in a book. Her skirt was tartan, her blouse white and her shoes and socks were very neatly sitting on the edge of the blanket. She looked over the top of the book at me.

"Not you too, Viktor!"

"Yes, me too, Min." I smiled. She must have been around eleven, and the messy hair and twinkling eyes were so different from the stern woman I had first met during the Triwizard Tournament. Yet I must have been getting used to this because I could see the amused smile of the woman I'd just left in the girl in front of me. "Are you going to tell me what I'm doing that's so offensive to you, kitten?"

"Quidditch!" she said as if that explained everything.

"Yes, Quidditch." I raised an eyebrow in what I hoped was a questioning manner.

"That's all anyone ever talks about at school. It's Quidditch this and Quidditch that. I want to study, but all the girls are getting dreamy over the Quidditch team and talking about brooms and quaffles and I certainly don't see the appeal."

The Minerva McGonagall I had just left had been watching me avidly as I'd attempted a Wronski Feint and screamed the loudest as Harry and I had pulled out without crashing. She loved Quidditch.

"Have you tried it?" I asked. She shook her head. "Come on then. Let an international Quidditch star teach you what it's all about!"

I ended up camping out by the loch and eating what she could sneak out from her parent's house. She lived in the highlands and I never saw another soul in the week that I was there. It was hard to believe a Muggle war was about to ensnare Europe. In my own Bulgaria, Gellert Grindelwald was gathering followers and whispering in the ears of wizards who would not like being compared to the madman leading the Muggles in Germany.

In Scotland there was just a girl being taught to fly by a man who was displaced in time.

I knew she would love it once she felt the freedom of racing through the air. Watching her braids streaming behind her as she raced across the water freed the niggling knot of worry that had taken up residence in my gut and allowed my brain time to think.

I had no idea why, but my life seemed to be tied to this girl. And every time I saw her – every time I told her when I'd next visit, or let her fly around on a Nimbus 2000, I was endangering history itself. I might have told her that Masters of Time were outside the normal flow of history, and to an extent the magic that entered our pores did allow us a certain leeway, but there was still every chance that I'd do something that meant I wouldn't be born, or that Harry wouldn't be born, or that would cause Grindelwald to win. Still, if her seventy year old self knew about me, and remembered all the instances we'd met up, it meant that it had already happened, and safely enough. I threw another rock at the loch, trying to get it to skim. Time paradoxes should have been easy to get my head around by this stage in my Mastery, but I was used to short jumps of an hour or two. Jumping around one woman's lifetime was completely outside of anyone's experience.

I looked up as the water rippled. Min was hovering in front of me.

"You think too much, Vikky. Come and fly!"

I climbed onto the broom behind her. Sixty years in the future she would suggest I hold on for dear life. It was time to try that.


December 1, 1945

I was back in the damned mountains, only this time it was snowing. Looking down towards Minerva's house I saw a small figure waving its arms. Snow was melting into my boots and I was too damned tired to transfigure anything into warm, dry clothes.

"You're Bulgarian," I muttered to myself as I started trudging down the slope. "This is practically a summer's day. You've certainly been in colder climes." Of course, I'd been in four layers of clothes with a fur-and-warming-charm lined cloak topping them at the time, but it didn't matter. It wasn't like I had to camp in this.

She was waiting for me at the door when I finally got there. The little cottage was stone and held both kitchen and living area. It was dominated by a giant fireplace and a woodstove was working overtime in one corner.

"Get out of those things. Some of father's clothes are in his room." There were four doors leading off the room, besides the one I'd just walked in through. She pushed me towards one of them.

There was a towel and a small bowl of warm water and I took the opportunity to wash some of the grime off of me. After getting dressed in the long underwear and work clothes that she'd left I reheated the water and soaked my feet in an attempt to feel my toes again.

"Viktor!" She knocked at the door. "Are you alright?"

"You can come in, Min."

She pushed the door open and took in my feet and still red nose. "Come sit by the fire. I've got a wee dram to warm you up and you can take your foot bath."

Once I was settled I watched her moving around the small room. This was a new Minerva, and one I wasn't sure how to react to. She had on her own pair of work pants and a shirt tucked in tightly. Her hair was down around her shoulders and I thought that this was the first time I hadn't seen it strictly confined by either braids or bun. She was skinnier than I thought I liked, certainly far too lean for the time she was living, but she moved with a grace that was a pleasure to watch and had me remembering that even though it had only been a few weeks of traveling, there had been some months of voluntary celibacy prior to this accident. I shifted in my chair and wondered why we didn't have a chaperone.

"That stew smells delicious, kitten."

"I finally figured out why you call me that," she said. I tried to remember what had prompted the nickname, then remembered the six-year-old gaily chasing a butterfly.

"Oh?" I said cautiously.

She grinned then closed her eyes. She shrank before my eyes and a grey tabby cat jumped up onto my lap.

She grew again to full size and smiled up into my eyes. "You knew, of course, but I hope you're still proud of me."

"I am." As she shifted around to be able to stand up I reminded myself that barely two hours ago she was a precocious eleven year old with skinny hips and pigtails.

"I wonder how long you're going to be around this time," she said. I was wondering that too. I had a feeling that it was going to be too long.


Min's Muggle father returned from town the next day and I was introduced as a school friend in need of a bed. Since I could transfigure one for myself the old highlander didn't object and I found myself getting comfortable in the threadbare cottage. I helped make stew, and cut firewood and in the evenings Donald and I talked about Quidditch, which he'd seen his daughter play just once, and the snow and the events of the war that had only just ended. And Min sat by the fire and read, or knitted or joined in the conversation, but I felt her eyes on me. And more than once I walked into the snow to remind myself that touching that girl was the last thing I wanted to do when I didn't know how long I'd be here or where I was going to go next.

"Maybe you're staying," she said quietly one night after her father had gone to bed.

"What does your little list of jumps tell you?"

She frowned. "There are more jumps, but they could be years from now in your chronology. They could be short jumps and you'll come back."

"They do seem to be getting longer."

We sat in silence for a long moment.

"I wonder where I got that little journal from anyway."

She blushed. "I, uh, saw one exactly like it about a month ago." She dashed into her room. "Here. You had to get it somehow."

"How weird our life is, kitten."

"Do you want to come to a party tomorrow night?" She said it all in a rush like she'd been building up courage. "It's for some friends who fought in the war. Just a little Christmas get together. And, well, you helped."

"I did?"

She nodded.

"How are we getting there?"

"I was going to Apparate."

"I don't know, Min. I haven't Apparated since this all happened."

"I've seen you do it. You'll be fine."

"I don't have anything to wear."

The next night found me standing beside her in transfigured robes that had far too much red and gold for my liking.

"Have a good night," Donald said. I nodded and shook his hand, in case the side-along she was about to attempt sent me careening to some other time. But I bravely took her hand and the lurching feeling was just a normal Apparation and not a time jump and I found myself standing in front of a small house in a small village.

"Welcome to Godric's Hollow," she said.

The door opened and although his hair had far more red and his beard was neatly trimmed instead of growing wild, Albus Dumbledore was instantly recognisable.

"Come in," he called. "Minerva, it's good to see you."

"Thank you, Professor."

"Ah, we fought a war together. It's Albus."

"Albus. You remember Viktor Krum."

"Here from somewhen else? Of course I do. How far along in your journey are you?"

"This is my fifth jump."

"Early days yet. People will recognise you, but you won't know them. Don't let it worry you. Everyone here is a friend."

A group of about twenty were in the small parlour, and I heard the door opening again behind me.

"Viktor, it's good to see you!" And just like that I was clutching a glass of mulled wine and being introduced to everyone. They were all telling stories that I shouldn't be hearing and I told myself that it wouldn't change history. Grindelwald was already defeated.

Eventually I found a quiet corner and stood watching Minerva laugh up into the smiling face of a handsome red-head. Honestly, were all British wizards carrot-tops; there was another one hanging around somewhere.

"You shouldn't try to fight it, Viktor." A heavily pregnant woman was beside me and I tried to pick the name. Prewett, that was it. Roxanne Prewett.

I'd had too much mead to hide who I was looking at. "She deserves someone not caught in this half-life. Someone like him."

"Well, since that's my husband you're talking about and I'm about to give birth to his twin sons I'd really rather you didn't push him towards a younger woman. I know it hasn't happened yet for you, but I saw you in battle and I saw what you did to save that girl, so I know you love her. Or you will. Some things are just fate, and even a traveler like yourself can't change them."

The husband had noticed me and was walking towards us leaving Minerva alone and oblivious to the mistletoe that had floated over to her. Roxanne shoved me forwards. Minerva's eyes lit up as I approached and she looked up as I motioned towards her head. Her mouth opened in a small 'o'.

"Our first kiss," I said.

"Not for me, it's not."

She grabbed my head and pulled me towards her and I wondered why I'd wasted two weeks without this woman in my arms. Her mouth moved over mine and my hands pulled her closer. She fit against my body as if she was made for it and her hands threaded through my hair to hold me there.

Eventually some wolf whistles broke through to my conscious mind and I pulled away trying to catch my breath. I stumbled and the darkness was invading the edges of my sight.

"Min, I-"

She shook her head. "Next time, love."


April 19, 1976

My eyes adjusted to the darkness surrounding me just in time to duck the curse flying at my head.

"Look out!"

"Viktor? Merlin save us. Get down!"

An arm dragged me to the floor. "Stay calm." The voice was all too familiar. "We get through this."

I turned my head and saw myself. I looked older, with gray at my temples and lines at my eyes. There was a hardness in those eyes that I glimpsed before the other self turned and looked away. "Can you see them, sweetheart?" he called.

"No." There was a movement in front of us and a young woman peeked around the desk that was hiding us.

"Mara, no!" The other me was loud beside me but it was too late. There was a flash of green light and his comrade was lying on the ground with lifeless eyes like so many others in one war or another. The girl's flared jeans and straight hair led me to believe that this was the first war against Voldemort.

Minerva's anguished scream broke me out of my reverie. She stepped forward, fighting like a banshee and I jumped up to join her, my future self doing the same. It was quick work to tie them up and I watched my familiar Buzzard Patronus fly out the window.

"Oh, Circe. Min!" Minerva was kneeling beside the young woman and she didn't look up at that sound but I saw myself disappear.

I put a hand on her shoulder and she turned into me, sobs wracking her whole body. I took a closer look at the woman on the ground, and then looked again. She had my nose, and those eyes were Minerva's under a mask of death.

"Is she-?" But it was too late. I could feel the edges of my sight fading. "Min, I'm sorry. I can't-"

"Don't you leave me!" She screamed at me. She'd never screamed at me before. Aurors started Apparating in as she kept screaming. "You can't abandon me with this you bastard!"


August 4, 2010

I woke up lying in a pile of sand. Stone walls surrounded me and familiar eyes peered at me over the top of a book. But this wasn't the past. This was where I'd started. Where I'd breathed in a lungful of the Sands of Time and started gallivanting through the life of the woman in front of me.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"For what?"

"I abandoned you. I didn't want to, but..." I trailed off. It was thirty-five years ago in her timeline, but mere minutes in mine.

"Abandoned me where?"

"I'm not sure. The seventies. A woman called Mara."

Her eyes clouded and she turned her head. A hand reached up to wipe away a tear. "It was a long time ago. I forgave you."

"Am I back? I mustn't be. Not for good."

"No, you're not. I'm sorry."

"You shouldn't be in here. You'll end up bouncing around time like me."

"There are protection charms now. That you invent." She waved her hand like it was unimportant. "I don't know how long you'll be here, but you can probably do with some food and a change of clothes." She held out a bag.

I bit into an apple and drew out the clothing. I was still in the dress robes from the Christmas party and the plain Muggle jeans and jumper looked like heaven.

"Uh, would you mind?" I made a circling motion with my hand. She chuckled but turned. I was starting to think she'd seen all of me before.

"Is it inevitable, then?" I asked.

"Us?" She shrugged her shoulders. "Roxanne always said yes, but you've told me more than once that we control our own destiny. You told me that you changed history, which means that if you don't want this you can stop it as well."

"You can turn around now." I sat to pull on the boots and realised I'd seen them before. "You broke into my rooms?"

Another shrug. "I thought you'd be more comfortable in your own things. I'm sorry, Viktor, but to me we've -" She cut herself off suddenly and took a deep breath. "We've been friends since I was six years old. That's seventy-nine years now. There's a certain familiarity that comes in that length of time."

"You were going to say something else. We've been married? Lovers?"

"We've kissed under the mistletoe." She pressed her lips to my cheek. My hand reached up to caress her face and I was surprised at how soft her skin still was, sixty years later. Then her lips were soft against mine and before I knew it I was kissing her in earnest, my fingers sliding into that bun she wore and loosening it until it spilled down her back, tickling my hands. Her tears slid between us and I pulled back, brushing them from her face.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I've just missed you so."

"How long-" She held a finger to my lips, stopping me from asking the question.

"I can't answer that. Time may not affect you the way it does us mere mortals, but it still affects you. I can't say too much."

"Can you tell me where I go next?"

She shook her head. "But take me to dinner when you get there. And Viktor? Will you just hold me until you go again?"

We settled into a pile of sand and she curled up in my lap like that tabby cat so long ago.

"Alright, kitten?"

"Yes. You're here."

March 10, 1947

I must have fallen asleep with Minerva in my arms, because when I woke up I was back on that Merlin-damned hill. It was raining and my nice, clean clothes were covered in mud. I looked for smoke coming from the chimney, because if no one was home I might be in trouble.

No smoke, but I'm a wizard. I prayed that this was after I'd met her father, or at least after I'd met her because I was going to have to break in. I slid my way down the hill, falling more than once and running mud through my hair when I forgot and pushed it off my face. I pilfered from the wood pile as I went past and whispered alohamora. I resolved to talk to young Min about wards and protection because it was far too easy to get in. That's if she still lived here. There was a fine layer of dust over the surfaces and the fireplace hadn't been swept out properly. I used my wand to light a fire and filled the copper tub with warm water. The water quickly turned dark from the mud and I vanished it and filled it again so that I could have a soak.

The sun set and I managed to scrounge up a meal of lukewarm baked beans. I ended up transfiguring the armchair like I had the last time I stayed the night in the little cottage. I just hadn't expected the place to feel so lonely without her in it.

The light struggled to penetrate the dirty film on the windows the next morning, but it did manage to penetrate my brain. I heated the baked beans over the fire this time so they wouldn't be ruined by my shoddy cooking charmwork.

I was contemplating Apparating to Hogsmeade since the little cottage seemed to be abandoned when the door swung open hard and Minerva strode in with wand out.

"It's me! Viktor!"

She was dressed in head-to-toe black and there was a look of bone-deep weariness about her eyes, as if all she wanted was to sleep for days.

"Viktor? It was yesterday, wasn't it? I'm sorry. I seem to forget all too often, don't I?"

I wondered for a second if I was back in the seventies and she was still mourning Mara, but she looked too young for that. Maybe it was the war's end. That would explain her exhaustion.

"No harm done," I said. "I like baked beans. Bit worried about your dad, though. Is he in town?"

"He-" She burst into tears and flew into my arms and as I pulled her onto my lap I wondered if it would always be my fate to hold this woman as she cried.

Some hours later I coaxed her into a bath and left her to soak while I went to Hogsmeade to get supplies. When I came back she was turning some of the flour I'd ignored into bread and I began to chop vegetables for a stew.

"Are you going to stay here?"

She shook her head. "The Ministry only gave me two weeks off. Long enough to decide what to do with the place. If I clean it up I might be able to sell it."

"Don't." I said it too quickly and she gave me one of her looks. "I'm sorry. I just seem to end up on that hill so often. It's nice to know that there's shelter here. If you need the money I'll buy it from you."

"With what? You don't have money in 1947."

"That's really a very good point. I left a broom with you that should be worth a fortune given it's from the future."

"I wrecked it before I even went back to school. Took a tumble into the loch and the broom's probably still at the bottom of it." She smiled fondly. "Da had to fish me out. Gave me a hiding for it as well."

Her face fell suddenly and I pulled her into my arms. "It gets easier remembering," I said. "I promise."

"I know. It's just, I never knew my mother. He was all I had."

We both stood still, my hand rubbing circles on her back the only movement in the small cottage.

"I'm glad you're here. I hope you don't go too soon."

"Maybe whatever's controlling this knew you needed me. Maybe it will make sure I can be here when you need me." I damned myself for a liar, hearing her angry curses as I left her with Mara's body. But this Min didn't know. And the lie was a comforting one.

I warmed up baked beans again and let her fall asleep on my lap.

I spent two weeks with Min, grieving and laughing and walking through the hills hand in hand. But even though this was the longest I'd stayed in one time period, I still didn't feel comfortable.

"What do I do now?" I asked the night before she was due to go back to work.

"Come to London with me."

"And what? Get a job, not knowing how long I'll be around? Build a life with no knowledge of how long it will last?"

"Viktor, you're thinking too much. Everyone builds a life not knowing how long it will last. War taught me that much."

I wanted to point out that there was an expectation of sticking around. That most people didn't jump from one time period to the next, but this woman had another two wars to live through. I knew that her life wouldn't be snuffed out, but the lives of those around her held no guarantee. So instead of staying holed up in a cottage in Scotland, I took her hand the next morning and unpacked my bags in her spare bedroom.

Min was the only reason I made it. There was a job with Percival Weasley, whose son Septimus fought the last war with her. There was dinner with Roxanne and Logan whose twin sons Gideon and Fabian were too like Fred and George for comfort. There was a steady supply of journal articles about recent research into time magic, which was all old compared to what I'd studied and developed myself, but at least made me feel like my old self.

And there was Min herself. Moving through the small apartment like a force of nature. Dragging me out for pick-up games with her school friends and beating me to the snitch more often than I was willing to admit. Complaining about her Transfigurations Master and the struggles of being an apprentice while developing spells that had never been seen before. Looking at me like she was expecting a kiss, but never taking the step herself, despite being the most forward woman I'd ever met. The casual cuddles of her younger years had been replaced by a careful distance and a startled look if we accidentally touched as we moved through the small apartment. Roxanne couldn't see me without giving me a disapproving look.

"You could just kiss her," Logan said. "At least that would stop Roxanne's constant complaining."

"Nothing can stop Roxanne's constant complaining," Septimus said, motioning for another three beers. "It's what she lives for. You should just get that woman pregnant again and she'd have something else to worry about."

Logan's grin was immediate and I went to the bar for firewhisky to toast the expectant father.

"We're waiting," Septimus was saying as I got back to the table. "There's plenty of time for babies after we've got careers and a house and hours of fun in the bedroom out of our system. Viktor's the one who hasn't even managed to get the girl."

They both looked back to me. "And when I disappear yet again?"

"Have you ever not appeared near her?" I shook my head. "There you go. Obviously it's meant to be and will all work out well in the end."

"NEWTs in divination, was it Logan? I'm jumping everywhere and she's staying constant. There could be months between my appearances. Years. I could leave her tomorrow and the next time she sees me I'm an old man." I knocked the firewhisky back and poured another finger. "I've had too much to drink. I'm beginning to sound just like your wives with my feelings and such."

"Then we need to keep drinking til you've got it out of your system, mate." Septimus held up his glass. "To the newest baby Prewett. May she look just like her Mum!"

"Cheers to that!"

I stumbled into the apartment some hours later, reeking of firewhiskey and singing a Bulgarian fighting song.

"Viktor?"

Even her dressing gown was tartan.

"Hello kitten."

Even in her tartan dressing gown she was tempting as anything I'd seen before.

"You're drunk."

Even with her lips pursed in disapproval I wanted to kiss her more than I'd wanted to do anything before in my life.

I crossed the small living room in two careful steps and put my hands lightly on her arms. Then I bent my head and pressed my lips to hers. Taking her small gasp as an invitation I slipped my tongue forward, losing myself in Min.

There was a great shove to my chest and I ended up on my arse. I shook my head, but it just wouldn't clear.

"Just because I've kissed you in the past, and will possibly kiss you in the future, doesn't mean you can come in here smelling like you fell into a barrel of Ogden's finest and maul me. Nothing's inevitable, Viktor Krum. You told me that and you'd better believe it. Touch me again and your bollocks will discover just how skilled in transfigurations I am."

Her door slammed and the magical force used to seal it was strong enough that I felt it wash over me despite my drunken state. I fell back onto the floor. What had I done?

When I awoke the next morning I was still on the floor outside her bedroom, though her door was open so she must have just stepped around me on her way out. It was Saturday, which meant neither of us had to work, so she'd probably gone for coffee with Roxanne. I turned slowly and saw a vial in my line of vision. Hangover cure. At least she didn't completely hate me.

I thought back to the woman who had met me back in 2010. The love in her eyes was almost painful to see and had left me feeling strangely guilty because I hadn't experienced it yet. I didn't know how to return it. But I didn't want to miss out on it, no matter what happened in the future.

Take me to dinner when you get there. The memory was so clear all of a sudden. I silently thanked the future Min for her little clue and set about getting ready for a romantic evening with the beautiful Min of the present.

I took a quick trip to Scotland and another to Logan to find out where Min and Roxanne were, then headed to Hogsmeade. Roxanne and Minerva were sitting in front of Puddifoot's eating some of his famous fish and chips. The twins were sitting at a small table with a girl of about five and being served tea.

"What do you want?" Roxanne noticed me first. I pulled the small bunch of heather from behind my back. "Typical man. Thinks flowers solve everything."

I ignored her and kept my eyes on Minerva's. "An apology, Minerva. I was a drunken lout last night, and no one deserves that, least of all in their own home."

She reached out and took the flowers. "They're the same colour as the ones from home."

"That's where I stole them from."

She smiled at that. "You're forgiven, Viktor."

"Damn." She shot me a questioning look. "I was hoping you'd say no so that I could take you to dinner."

"You can still take me to dinner."

"May I pick you up at eight?"

She was pleasantly flushed when we returned to the apartment somewhere close to midnight.

"Are you going to drop me at my door?" she asked.

"I'll drop you at your bedroom door." We were already standing beside it. "And leave you with a goodnight kiss."

She held her hand to my lips as I bent. "Why did it take you so long? In my diary it shows you've kissed me before, a few jumps ago."

"Ah, kitten." I straightened, but found I couldn't look in her eyes. I didn't want to get into it, the fear I had of losing her; the bigger fear of her waiting forever for a man who couldn't control where or when he was going to be. That stern woman I remembered from the Triwizard Tournament, the melancholy one that waited for me in a room of sand, she had to have come from somewhere. It was looking all too likely that it was my actions that took the humour from her eyes.

"Viktor, don't live your life being afraid that tomorrow's the next jump. Live it like tomorrow's never going to happen and you have to do everything you want to do today."

She tilted her head back and captured my lips and in seconds we were against the door, tangled together like this was the only chance we'd have. I drew back slowly, resting my forehead against hers.

"Always such good advice, kitten. Maybe I'll take it this time."

"Then don't leave me at the door. Come inside."

I shook my head and pressed my lips to her forehead. "Not tonight." Another kiss on her cheek and I pushed the door open and let her slip through.

When I woke up on that hill again I swore to Circe that next time I'd do what she said.

October 21, 1968

The jumps sped up again after that kiss and it felt like I was only ever in a time for a couple of hours and then I was off again, with no time to sleep or rest. I received a quick hug from nine year old Min, then seconds later was playing ring around the rosie with six year old Minnie. I stood on my hill and watched a sleek Minerva emerge from the loch while I prayed she was old enough for me to be having such lustful thoughts, and then we had a cup of tea in her cottage, her hair completely gray and her skin parchment-thin and etched with deep lines. I couldn't get my breath and with each fade of consciousness I prayed that I would end up back in 1947 and spend a proper lifetime with this woman.

Then I woke up and I wasn't on that damned hill. In fact, I was in the middle of Diagon Alley and nearly landed on someone.

"I'm sorry," I said. The young woman turned and the face was so familiar I almost cried out. This face was one that had haunted my dreams. I'd last seen her lying lifeless on the ground while Minerva cried over her. "Mara?"

"Dad!" She launched herself at me and I was reminded of that girl on the Hogwarts train so many years ago. "You're still jumping. You look so young."

"I'm sorry, I-"

"This is the first time we've met?"

I decided not to mention the first time I saw her, sometime in her future. I just nodded.

"You never told me when it would happen. Said you wanted it to be a surprise. But if you'd warned me I would have got the day off from training!"

"Training?"

"I got signed to the Cannons! This explains why the present you didn't act surprised when I first told you. Honestly, Dad, sometimes you're no fun. Come watch us train?" Before I could even nod she was spinning us off to a destination unknown.

I sat in the stands while she got changed and pondered everything she told me. There was a present me, and it appeared I'd had a significant role in my daughter's life. She didn't hate me for abandoning her; instead she acted like she'd known me all her life. She acted like jumping through time was just something that happened. She appeared in front of me in the Cannons training kit holding two brooms.

"Warm up with me." I took the broom from her and felt familiar notches in the wood. VK was engraved at the top of the Silver Arrow's handle. Vladislav Krum.

"This is my grandfather's broom."

She'd already taken off and was hovering before me. "You taught me to ride on it. I used to lord it over the other kids. You taught everyone at Hogwart's to ride, but I was the only one who got the Silver Arrow. And I was the only one who'd been taught by you since I was a toddler. We're going to take it back to Bulgaria over the summer so it's there when it's time for you to learn on it."

Taught everyone at Hogwarts? I tucked that information away, another clue to when my future would be. "It still flies okay?"

"Not as good as mine does, but you could make a twig fly, Dad."

And just like that I was flying with my daughter, her orange robes flying behind her as we raced around the hoops throwing a quaffle between us.

"Xiomara Krum, chaser extraordinaire!" she said as she flicked the ball through the hoops.

"Chaser?"

"Can't see a snitch to save my life. I was quite the disappointment."

"I'm sure you've never disappointed me, Mara Krum."

Her eyes misted over and she threw the quaffle at me. "No sentimentality. The team's here and Arthur and Molly are coming to watch the game so I have to be good. They eloped! Can you believe it?"

"Why the Cannons? They aren't the best."

"But they have spirit and I like the robes. The Harpies wanted me but I didn't want to move to Wales. Besides, we're the Cannons. We shall conquer!" This last was shouted and was echoed by the rest of the team coming onto the field.

My little girl, playing professional Quidditch. And war would steal her from us before too long. Knowing the future was not at all what it was cracked up to be.


December 31, 1949

I left my daughter to her team and found myself back in Albus Dumbledore's house. It looked like a streamer factory had vomited in the room and Dumbledore was pointing a wand at his throat as he counted 'ten, nine, eight'.

I could see Minerva by herself in the corner, a wistful smile on her face. I resolved then not to put this visit on my little list. This would be a surprise. I moved quickly across the room as the collected guests yelled five, four, three, two.

She was looking in the other direction and didn't see me approach so I could whisper "one" into her ear.

She spun around. "Viktor?"

"Happy new year."

She kissed me like she hadn't seen me in years and I prayed that the observation wasn't true.

"Take me home," she said and I didn't need to be asked twice.

She pulled me out into the night, stumbling as she walked since we didn't take our hands off each other. A small park was opposite Dumbledore's house and we stopped to lean against a tree and kiss some more.

"I'm not going to make it home," I murmured against her lips.

"Then do a warming charm."

I did as she fumbled with the zips on my Muggle trousers. Then her legs were around my hips and my hands were getting scratched by the bark but I didn't care because she was warm and wet and she clawed at my shoulders and whispered I love you as she fell apart in my arms.

I didn't want to put her down, so I apparated us to the apartment with her still in my arms. When we got there I took my time, stripping the robes from her and running lips and fingers and tongue over every inch of her body. When I came to her hand I noticed the ring on it and traced it slowly before looking up at her.

"He won't mind," she said. "He will understand."

I didn't want to ask. Didn't want to jinx this thing before us so I went back to my exploration and teased her until I couldn't ignore her pleading any longer. When we were finally both sated I wrapped my arms around her. As I fell asleep I sent up another prayer to Circe. Let her husband be me.

When I woke the next morning she was looking at me intently.

"You should put some clothes on."

"Why? You'll only want to take them off again."

"You told me that you'd surprise me one night, but it would only be for one night. You said that if I turned up one night when you weren't expecting me that it meant the end was coming and you were going to have a hard time ahead." She looked down at a book in front of her and I saw it was the journal she'd given me back in 1945. "You said that I should tell you, even though I'm not supposed to tell you anything. But it says right here: 'Tell me this'."

"Tell me what?"

"Not while you're lying there. Get up and put some clothes on and I'll tell you."

I left the warmth of her side and began to pull on clean clothes from her husband's closet.

"It says: 'Viktor, it's already happened, and it worked out, so don't be afraid to mess with time. Tell a story, send a curse. And don't believe what you saw. Even that can be changed.' What did you see, Viktor?"

I saw those lifeless eyes yet again, and the pain hit me like a physical blow. This time I knew her laughter. I'd heard her call me Dad and I'd thrown a quaffle around with her. This time those lifeless eyes belonged to my daughter.

"It doesn't matter, kitten. It can be changed."


November 23, 1973

I tried to ignore how out of date my clothes looked as I crept into the small room full of people yelling at Albus Dumbledore. Normally in the Wizarding world the fashions don't matter - robes don't date. But most of the people in the room were young and wearing muggle bell-bottoms and crotchet tops. I could see Arthur Weasley in a corner looking grim; his arms wrapped around a weeping Molly Weasley.

"You sent them in with no warning, Albus. No back-up." This was a younger version of Moody, the man who was impersonated the year I was at Hogwarts. "Merlin knows those boys fought a good fight but we have limited resources. We can't go off without proper intelligence anymore, even for you."

I walked close to the wall until I reached Minerva and Mara. Mara grabbed my hand and didn't let go. It looked like she'd been in a fight, and tears had left streaks in the dirt on her face.

"It's Gideon and Fabian," Min told me. "Mara was with them. They sent her with the information and a Portkey and stayed to defend her escape. They didn't make it home."

I'd never seen them grown. The last time I'd seen them they were toddlers playing tea parties. I pulled Min and Mara tight against me. A family I barely knew but I couldn't stand the thought of losing them.

"This organisation was formed to fight Voldemort." It took me a moment to figure out what was wrong, until I realised that no one flinched at the name. This was before he became too feared to be mentioned. "To do that we must function as a team. If you do not wish to do that, if you cannot do that, then you are welcome to leave."

"We're out," Molly said. The conversation stopped. "We have one son and another on the way." She rested her hand on her very pregnant belly. "I'm sorry, Professor, but I can't risk my children growing up without a mother or a father. They've already been deprived of their uncles." That brought her tears back and Arthur drew her up from her seat.

"I'm sorry, Professor," he murmured. Mara's eyes followed them as they left the room. As they left another young man walked in and he walked straight to Mara and pulled her into his arms.

"Rodger Hooch," Minerva whispered at my confused look. "Our little girl married the keeper of the Chudley Cannons."

"She should stop as well." I kept my lips close to her ear so we couldn't be overheard. "She's so young."

"He's Muggleborn, Viktor. As am I. She can't walk away from this; it's her life. No more than we could let Grindelwald walk through Britain and enslave those he didn't agree with."

"We're still fighting this one."

"And we'll fight the next one as well if it comes to that."

I turned my face from hers. No need for her to see how those words hit close to home.

Mara introduced me to her husband as the meeting broke up and he won some points by figuring out quickly that this was the 'jumping' father his wife kept talking about.

"Will you come eat dinner with us?" he asked. "Mara left a stew cooking."

"That sounds lovely," said Minerva. She looked up at me and I tried to see the changes. It had been twenty-three years since I'd seen her last and she was nearing fifty. There were lines of laughter at the corners of her eyes and the creases of worry marred her forehead. I smoothed a thumb over them and she relaxed into a smile.

"You're still as beautiful today as the day I met you," I said.

"How old was I when you first met me?"

I did a mental calculation. "Sixty-nine, I think."

She broke into startled laughter and abruptly stopped as all eyes turned to us. Mara rolled her eyes.

"Dad gets sentimental. Let's go eat."

"Save me some, sweetie. I have to talk to Albus." The curiosity in Minerva's eyes was easy to read. "Last time I saw you, you told me to tell a story. Albus is who I have to tell it to."

She nodded and picked up her cloak. "I love you," she said. I kissed her cheek and waved them off. One day I'd be able to say that back.

"Viktor?"

"Albus. I need to tell you about the future."

"You can't do that. Trying to change your own history is dangerous. The stories I've heard…"

"Whatever I'm doing now has already happened in the past when I was born. This is what happened." I felt more secure as I said it. "Harry always said it seemed like you knew exactly what was going to happen before it ever did. I think I know why."

"Who is Harry?"

I took a deep breath and prayed I was doing the right thing. It's already happened, I told myself. This is what wins the war.

"Harry is the boy who lived and this is what you need to know about him."


June 6, 1944

I covered my ears as soon as I could. It sounded like a million people were throwing reducto curses at once. A hand covered mine and the sound faded to a dull roar.

"We're using a modified silencio charm. It works on everything around you, like a bubble of silence that you can still talk inside."

"Thanks." She didn't look at me, her attention solely focused on what was going on around us.

"Min?" She turned and I captured her face in my hands and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. "I've missed you."

She blushed a deep red and I turned away to give her privacy. "What are we doing?"

She took a shaky breath. "We were helping the French Ministry take down some of Grindelwald's people, but it appears the Muggles decided today was a good day to attack as well."

"French ministry? Where are we?"

"Normandy."

Over the next two months I looked in my little diary often. I'd written down what Minerva had told me word for word, creating the record that she would read to me, and yet another time paradox. I'd expected it all to happen quickly now, but as we camped in bombed out buildings and followed the advancing Muggle army through France and into Germany it seemed like this war had no end in sight.

Every day I watched my kitten slink off as a cat searching for news. Too often she returned with haunted eyes and refused to speak of what she'd seen. Every night she'd come to my bed and search for oblivion and I hated that she had to see and fight and grow up all too soon.

One night she let the tears flow. "I can't tell who is worse. The Muggles who lock up the people they hate to starve to death or the wizards who torture their enemies until their bodies give out."

I couldn't answer. She knew as well as I did that hate caused only pain and suffering whether Muggle or Wizard. We'd seen too much to believe that there was really any difference between the groups of bigots. Only their techniques changed, and the Muggles were far more efficient.

It was almost a year later that our group followed a bunch of Americans into Berlin. Septimus, Logan and I all wore Muggle uniforms that allowed us to blend in. The woman from the French Resistance, Cedrella, joined the crowds on the street and Roxanne and Minerva had animagus forms that allowed them to follow silently. Only Albus wasn't disguised in any way. His power was such that he could make himself invisible at will.

"Can you feel that the wards have fallen?" We all nodded. He'd been training us to be sensitive to the magic. "They've had sentries at each entry point holding up wards surrounding all of Berlin. With such a large area they had to have people anchoring them. The Muggle attack must have broken them."

"So we can just walk in?" Septimus asked.

"No. The sentries may have fallen but you can be assured Gellert is still in a stronghold somewhere."

"The rumour among the Muggles is that Hitler killed himself," Minerva said. "It's all they're talking about."

"Their victory does not mean ours, Minerva. He'll be in Wizarding Berlin, so let's make our way there. You enter through a church, the Gedächtniskirche."

We walked through the ruined city. The people here looked starving as well and they sat among the piles of rubble that used to be their homes. The war had stripped them of everything. Albus stopped suddenly and it was easy to see why. If this was the church we needed to enter, then it was possible we couldn't get into Wizarding Berlin at all. The spire still existed but the top part of it was gone. The bulk of the church was just piles of stones.

Albus moved carefully forward and we spread out around him, wands at the ready.

I still don't know what warned me, a movement from the corner my eye, but I turned and saw Grindelwald walking through the ruined doorway of the church, four of his die-hard followers behind him.

"Albus."

"Gellert. I don't want to fight you. You need to surrender."

"You know I can't do that, Albus. You must remember what they did. Why this fight is so important. It was your dream, too."

"This chaos was never my dream. This cruelty? You've become what you despised, no better than this Muggle madman that just killed himself."

Rage flared in Grindelwald's eyes and he raised his wand. Suddenly there were curses flying and we were fighting for our lives. I turned in time to see one of his men come out of hiding and point his wand at Minerva. I pulled her down and that all-too-familiar green light flew over her head. I sent a curse flying at the wizard. The wall he flew back into collapsed on top of him and I knew this was the curse I was supposed to send, the one that I'd been speaking of in the book.

"You saved my life," she said.

"I love you," was my only reply before the light faded around me.


July 24, 1931

"Vikky! Are you alright?"

I coughed, the dust of rubble and battle working its way out of my lungs.

"Shall I get Da?"

"No, kitten. But a drink of water, maybe?"

She ran off and came back with water and some biscuits.

"Where have you been?"

It was time. It was if I suddenly had an internal sense that told me when to act. This was a brief reprieve, but it was the last chance I'd get to give her the book.

"I've been fighting some bad men. It's all in this book."

I took out the journal. Dates and times and places, but no details. Nothing to let her know what would happen in her future.

"Listen to me, Min. You must keep this safe. This will tell you every time I'm going to arrive so that you won't be surprised by my appearance. This way you can have food waiting. Does that sound like a good idea?"

She nodded eagerly. "Are you going to visit lots of times?"

"Yes, Minnie. We're going to be friends for a long time."


April 19, 1976

It was the scene I was expecting. Two versions of myself were behind some cover. I remembered the older self telling my younger self that we got through this. I wondered how he could think that. If I couldn't manage to save Mara today it was possible I'd never recover.

I'd seen the whole scene before, and from the corner I now stood it was like watching it in slow motion. The Deatheater raised his wand. I was busy talking to myself and not paying attention to Mara. I didn't know whether to take out the Deatheater but the decision was taken from me as Mara began to move. I Apparated to her and immediately Apparated again to the other side of the room. Minerva took out one Deatheater and I sent a curse at the other.

"I almost lost her." Even from the other side of the room I knew what she was saying.

Then that agonized scream came again and I couldn't understand. I'd saved Mara. I spun to the corner where she'd been and saw me. It was me lying there in the dirt staring at the ceiling. Me with graying hair and lines on my face and a blankness in my eyes that spoke volumes. Then, as we watched, he faded into time and seconds later I followed.


August 4, 2010

The cat watched me impassively as I retched, body contorting as the breakfast I'd eaten in 1940s Berlin landed on the sand in a room in London, 2010. She was staying like this so that I couldn't read her; I'd observed it often enough during our trek across Europe. I wiped my sleeve across my mouth and collapsed backwards before she stood and delicately made her way towards me.

She sat on my chest and I looked into the golden eyes trying to see the woman I loved. A soft hand across her back encouraged her to settle down and I allowed her purring warmth to give me comfort. She probably knew me too well; I would not have accepted this from a human.

Finally she moved away and I was starting at Minerva again.

"Are you alright?" Against all odds the question came from me. She'd been devastated and I'd been dead now for thirty-four years. I felt my mind start to shut down again and blanked the thought out. I had some living left to do, and I knew how it was going to end. I'd take her advice and life every day like it was my last and when that final day came I'd make love to her in the morning and thank Merlin for my daughter's life that night.

She held out a carefully folded piece of parchment. It was soft, as if it were well-handled and the scent of soft heather and Min clung to it.

Kitten,

It was Mara or me. I hope you understand that it wasn't really a choice; it would always be our little girl. Thank you for the time we had, and for teaching me that each minute of it is precious.

Viktor.

"How many years did we have together?"

"I can't tell you that, Viktor."

"I taught at Hogwarts. Flying. We must have married. There was Mara, and Molly and Arthur when they were younger, given how close we were with their parents." I started with the things I'd surmised, but then my imagination crept in and I spoke of the life I envisioned for us. "Summers at the cottage in Scotland, flying over the loch. Winters before a fire in our quarters, making love on the rug. Lots of laughter. Tell me we laughed a lot."

She nodded mutely.

"You invented new ways to transform matter and I invented charms to protect you and others from the damned sand. And I marveled every day that time would allow me to travel so freely through your life."

"You're speaking as if you won't see it. It's all still ahead of you, Viktor."

"I don't want to leave you alone again, Min. Do you know how long I have?"

"This one is your choice. If you wish to you can stay here and break the loop. I've never really believed you can change history, but there is apparently a safety switch. Stay here now and the twenty eight years we had together will cease to exist."

"Is that what you want? Would you rather not have the heartache?"

"I'd rather not deprive my daughter of her father." Her hand slid across the sand and into mine. "And I wouldn't give up a single day of those twenty-eight years. Not for anything."

"Do I just will myself there?"

"You described it as Apparating through time."

I tried to pour everything into that last kiss. I had a lifetime of loving her still to go but I had to thank her for it now.

"Good bye, Viktor."

"I love you, kitten."


September 6, 1947

I was still in Muggle military issue and Circe only knew what the boots were spreading over the coverlet, but I didn't care. This was a familiar bed, and a very familiar voice was humming in the kitchen. On top of that I could smell pancakes.

"I made pancakes!" she called. There was a knock on my bedroom door. "A thank you for our date last night, even if you did leave me with just a kiss at the door."

She pushed the door open and the cheer left her voice. "You've been in Berlin."

"And other places."

"Are you alright?"

"I am." She sat beside me and I looked into her eyes, willing the haunted look away. "I'm here to stay, Min. No more jumping. Just me and you and a wedding on our hill in Scotland."

"A wedding?"

"Marry me, Min."

"Yes." She pushed me back onto the bed and began to take the dirty clothes of me. "Yes."

This time I did as I was told. There was plenty of time left, and I was going to enjoy every second.

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