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Gideon hated ministry balls. As an Auror, he was required to attend them, both for added security and to boost donations – people tended to loosen their purse strings when they could see the wizards and witches who risked their lives to keep them safe in person – but he didn't like it. There was a kind of pageantry to it, a sense of making a spectacle of oneself, that he didn't like being a part of.
As was required, though, he put on the dress robes and stood by the door, making polite chit-chat with wizarding Britain's elite and taking careful note of exactly who was coming inside. Always, but especially in times like these, one could never be too careful. With characters like Voldemort creating little pockets of turmoil in their world, he knew they were living in dark times indeed, and he feared that things would get worse long before they got better.
The fact that he was standing just there was the only reason that he even saw her. Whether it was fate or pure dumb luck, he'd never know, but he never regretted it. Not for a second. Not even when she left him alone and waiting.
She came into the banquet hall alone, which in itself was unusual. Most young witches came with their parents or with a suitor or an escort. Her glittery heels clicked against the tile floor as she walked, exuding a kind of confidence that didn't quite reach her eyes. Sparkly blue dress robes accentuated the soft curves of her body. Her hair hung in sleek dark curls around her face. She wore a gold chain around her neck, the charm of which was tucked neatly into the bodice of her gown.
"Good evening," he greeted her as she came through the door. "I'm afraid we've never met." There was no law stating that beautiful women couldn't be evil, he told himself. I need to know who she is for business, nothing more.
She gave him a polite smile as her dark eyes quickly took him in. He could see the precise moment that she noticed the Auror's crest on his robes because she visibly relaxed. "I'm here on Dumbledore's business," she said cryptically and it was his turn to relax.
Dumbledore was a force unto himself. If this girl was here on his behalf, they had nothing to worry about. The old wizard worked like a master chess-player, moving people around like pieces on a board, but he was noble and they had nothing to fear from this girl if Dumbledore had indeed sent her here.
"Perhaps you'd like to dance with me?" he said impulsively. "I may be able to offer some assistance on your mission."
She bit her lip as she considered it before finally agreeing, "I'd appreciate it, Mr…"
"Prewett," he replied with a smirk. "Gideon Prewett."
"Hermione Granger," she said, smiling as she took his offered hand.
As they made their way to the dance floor, Gideon still kept his eyes on the door as much as possible. He watched as the Malfoys came through the door, a tiny blond infant in the arms of the wife. They were people of interest, according to the latest intel he'd heard. Shortly after that, the Nott family entered and Gideon knew that trouble could be brewing. Having several suspected Death Eaters in one place couldn't be good.
He behaved casually, though, as if nothing was amiss. It would do no good to give himself away before they'd done anything, if they did anything. He twirled Miss Granger on the dance floor, listening intently as she explained that she needed to place a specialized undetectable tracking spell on a man named Peter Pettigrew before midnight. As he understood it from her, this man was an informant for Voldemort working right under their very noses. This tracker would give Dumbledore eyes and ears on him so that he could inform the Auror team of when and where to strike.
Once she had briefed him on what needed to happen, they moved on to lighter topics, both still watching the door, but understanding the need to appear casual and at ease. The more he talked with her, though, the more enamored he became with her. She was intelligent and funny, a bit headstrong but he liked it.
The song shifted to a slow dance and he pulled Hermione's body in closer to his, wrapping an arm deftly around her narrow waist. The warmth of her body felt just right pressed against his. They both watched the door as they slowly spun. "There he is," she whispered urgently.
The man in question was small and chubby, barely more than a boy. It was easy to see how he was spying without being suspected because he looked both innocent and cowardly. But he headed directly toward Malfoy and Nott as soon as he entered the room, and Gideon could think of no good reason for that.
"I'll approach their group under the guise of greeting them," he said, thinking fast. "Claim I've been remiss in my duties because a beautiful woman distracted me." He winked at her and she rolled her eyes. "I suspect that Pettigrew will slink away as quickly as possible to avoid an Auror's attention and then you'll have your shot."
As the song ended, she gave him a polite hug, then stepped away, murmuring a quick, "Thank you," in his ear.
As he watched her go, he felt a pang of longing and a profound sense of hope that he could get to know her better when all of this was over. For now, though, he had a responsibility and he couldn't let a beautiful woman – even one as seemingly perfect as Hermione Granger – get in the way.
"Good evening, gentlemen," he said as he approached the little group of suspected Death Eaters. "I'm afraid I got a bit distracted and missed you when you came in." He glanced around lasciviously at some of the women in the room, hoping to convey to these men that he was somewhat slimy and possibly incompetent. Making them believe that would let things go more smoothly for him.
Nott snickered at his vague innuendo. "Easy for the cat to get distracted when all the birds are showing off their feathers," he said. Gideon smiled roguishly, though he was rather disgusted. Play the part, old boy, he told himself.
"You know it!" he said with a laugh. "And who's this little one?" he asked, directing his attention to the blond baby. As expected, Pettigrew took that moment to slip away without a word. From the corner of his eye, Gideon watched Hermione make her way casually toward him, her wand mostly concealed against the inside of her arm.
Trusting her to get the job done, Gideon relaxed a bit. He wrapped up his conversation with the Malfoys then excused himself to the bar, having no desire to stay long enough to arouse suspicion. "Three measures of Gordon's, one of vodka, half a measure of Kina Lillet. Shake until it's ice-cold, then add a thin slice of lemon peel," he said to the bartender who looked at him in annoyance before starting to mix his drink. He shrugged. Being specific and clear about what he wanted was surely better than sending his drink back after it was made.
"I'll have one of those too," Hermione said from beside him when the barman set down his drink. Gideon chuckled when the man gave her a polite nod instead of an irritated glare. It must be nice to be a beautiful woman.
"It's done!" she said breathlessly, smiling widely as she sat down.
"Hmm," he pulled his watch from his pocket. "And you still have over an hour before midnight." The implication went unspoken, but was clear enough to make her cheeks pink.
"True," she glanced away from him then gratefully took her drink from the bartender. "But I'll be gone after that. You'll never see me again."
That thought gave him pause. He wasn't sure why the thought of losing a woman he'd only met tonight made him feel so empty, but he held onto hope. Why would he never see her again? She was the type of woman he'd move mountains to find, so surely she was wrong about that. "Hermione," he began softly. "Haven't you ever wanted to live like there is no midnight?"
Her brown eyes were soft and filled with desire as she gazed back at him. Finally she nodded. "Yes," she said, that one little word filled with so much meaning.
Gideon took her back to his flat, duty be damned. If he was never going to see her again, he was going to make this one night count. His bedroom was filled with flickering candlelight as they stood before his bed facing one another, as close as two people could be without touching.
"You're so beautiful, Hermione Granger," he murmured. And when he kissed her, he poured all that he was feeling in that moment into the kiss; his desire for her, the awe he felt of her brains and her wit and her beauty. Her lips were soft and warm. She tasted sweet, like honey and magic. And when he pulled away from her, she let her gown slip to the floor.
"A time turner," he breathed, for there, nestled between her breasts, was a tiny golden hourglass. He reached out to touch it. "I've never seen one before."
Laying her small hand gently over his, she said softly, "That's why I'll never see you again. I've been working on this for five years. I started in 1998."
His eyes widened and suddenly he understood. The war had gone badly and had lasted so long that this had been the only solution. He hoped that there truly would be an end to it now, but it wouldn't end with him and Hermione together. It couldn't. "You're an Unspeakable," he said and she nodded sadly. "Then we'll just have to make tonight count," he said, taking her in his arms and laying her gently on the bed.
An hour later, they lay in his bed, their limbs all tangled together, her perfect mouth pressed against his, when she pulled away from him and said, "I've got to go."
There was nothing to be done for it. Tears blurred his vision as he kissed her one last time, as he watched her get dressed and take the Time-Turner in her dainty hands. She spun the hourglass.
Burying his face in his hands, he breathed deeply to regain his composure. Why this? Why her? He'd known her but a few hours. Why did he feel so grieved? "I'll never forget you, Hermione," he whispered. But she didn't hear him, of course. She was gone.
All that remained where she had stood moments ago was a single glittering shoe.
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Months went by and still Gideon could not get Hermione Granger out of his head. Fabian teased him for being so hung up on a woman he could never have and he took it in jest. Objectively, he knew that it was crazy.
He went to work. He fought Death Eaters and guarded politicians. He celebrated with Molly and Arthur when their youngest was born. Finally a girl! He toasted little Ginevra and played with his nephews. And when he went home, he thought about Hermione. Her shoe lived on his dresser and he looked at it daily, wishing that the woman it belonged to was there with him. His days were uneventful, but he longed to share them with her.
October 31 was a day like any other. It was, until it wasn't.
That evening, a Phoenix appeared in his flat without warning. Dumbledore. The Patronus urged him to go to Godric's Hollow immediately, to meet the other Aurors there. He went without question, his wand gripped tightly in his hand.
The battle was long and intense. Voldemort hadn't expected them, so they had the advantage, but he was powerful and willing to do anything to survive. In the end, though, they apprehended him, turning him over to the dementors at Azkaban.
His trial was short and swift, completed before the sun even rose on All Saints Day. There was no question that he had performed Unforgivable curses and many other things worthy of the harshest of punishments. When the dementors kissed him, they found some issue with his soul, but that was above Gideon's paygrade. He had helped capture the villain. What happened after that, he left to the Unspeakables and the dementors to work out. Exhilarated and exhausted, he went back home.
When he opened his door, he ran a hand through his hair. He needed a shower, but he needed to sleep more. There was no one waiting for him, so the shower could wait. He made his way to the bedroom, thinking of the sparkly blue heel on his dresser, wishing that Hermione was here to witness their victory. The victory that she had so neatly handed them.
When he reached his bedroom, he stopped short. Sprawled across his bed, looking more beautiful than ever, was Hermione, smiling up at him. He pinched himself quickly to make sure he wasn't dreaming.
"I left my shoe," she said sheepishly, "so that the time loop wouldn't close. Now that Voldemort is really gone, I can stay."
Gideon didn't stop to think. He rushed to her, climbing into the bed beside her, and kissed her deeply, no longer tired or worried about anything. "I couldn't stop thinking about you," he said, running his hands through her soft curls. "I never stopped thinking about you."
"It's all over," she said happily, kissing him back. "No more war. No more midnight."