Yesterday is Tomorrow (Everything is Connected)

Seven: What the Future Holds

Yesterday is Tomorrow (everything is connected)

VII

*

"Even people capable of living in the past don't really know what the future holds."

- 11/22/63, Stephen King

*

It was as everything froze. The ability to think, to breathe, to move. Hermione was still, unable to do anything except inhale - the scent of peppermint, spice - and taste - ale - and feel - warm lips on hers.

Hermione opened her eyes and stared straight into James' as he slowly pulled back from her. His eyelashes fluttered just a bit, and then -

His were wide, the hazel shine to them surprised by his actions; they reflected her own amber, both of them just staring and unsure of what to do next. A light from a disco ball reflected off his glasses, and for the first time in a long time, Hermione didn't compare James to Harry - because quite honestly, Harry never looked that baffled when staring at her.

His hands were warm on her back, and their stomachs were pressed together, their chests brushing against one another as they breathed. James's mouth opened, and he blinked, but he couldn't form any words.

In a moment, sound came rushing back and there was noise everywhere as people were cheering, singing, to Auld Lang Syne or to the lyrics of the next song that was playing as they ushered in 1976.

"Hermione - I -"

Then Sirius was there, tipsy, hooking an arm around James's shoulder and making him stumble back and away from her as he laughing jeered, "Yeah, wrong Evans, mate!"

Hermione blinked - once - and then spun on her heel and pushed through the throng of sweaty people on their dance floor.

"Oi, what's her problem?"

James's eyes flicked to his friend, and there was a weak grin on his face as he chuckled, but it dropped quickly. He felt breathless and wasn't sure why. "Dunno. Hey - where's your brother?"

Sirius shrugged, eyes trailing to follow a girl in a short, short skirt. "Dunno. Lost him after I said Happy New Year."

"Listen, let's leave, yeah?" said James, reaching up and tugging at the collar of his stiff robes. He cleared his throat. He no longer felt comfortable in what he was wearing. "Let's head back to the Manor."

Sirius shrugged, but they left.

But he didn't feel like he could breathe when they were outside, either.

Strange.

*

Hermione pushed into the men's toilet, a single room occupied only by a very green Barty. He wearily looked up from where he was curled up around the toilet, his eyes beady. "'Mione?"

"Hey bestie," said Hermione, dropping to the floor next to him and smoothing his sweaty fringe from his forehead. He leaned into her cool hand. "You really did a number on yourself, didn't you?"

"Mmm," he moaned, turning back to point his face at the basin.

Hermione pursed her lips. "I don't think I'm going to be able to get you home this way. Maybe you should spend the night at Reggie's?"

Barty shook his head weakly. "His mum'll freak. He was supposed to be at the Greengrass's all evening. He's probably gone back anyway."

Hermione sighed. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Well... there's nothing else for it then."