Chapter Text
With Harry gone, Hermione was finally able to drop the façade and allow her mind to stew over her preposterous thoughts.
The idea had come long before this of course, only triggered now because of her conversation with Harry about the past.
For the tenth time in as many minutes, Hermione glanced up to be certain Harry remained outside their tent. Only then did she dare pull the hourglass from beneath her shirt to watch the magical swirl of sand and endless potential dance within.
She shouldn't have taken the time turner from Professor Dumbledore's desk. But it had been one of the last things Hermione had done, those turbulent and confusing final days of Sixth Year. When Professor MacGonnagal darted from the former headmaster's office to speak with Harry before he could reach the door. Hermione hadn't paused to really think at the time, a very rare moment for her.
She would later blame it on grief, as she'd brushed her fingers over Fawkes' ashes. She remembered how helpless she'd felt, how afraid. It was fear that had urged her to the other side of Professor Dumbledore's desk. She'd found it in the first drawer she tried. The time turner had been the very same she'd used in Third Year and it had been practically waiting for her. She had slipped it in her pocket and returned to her seat before anyone noticed.
Now, half a year later, Hermione unwound the chain from her neck and lifted the hourglass to the lantern light. This was one of the few secrets she had kept from Harry, from everyone. After Sirius' death she'd watched her best friend go through a depression she did not think he could come out of. Harry had recovered, but Hermione had thrown herself into preparing for the worst. And later, once she returned home to her parents for the last time, she'd thought hard on the subject of time.
After selling her grandmother's antique jewelry her mother passed to her on her fifteenth birthday and depleting her allowance in Gringotts to purchase the supplies she'd need, Hermione remembered Dumbledore's warnings.
There are consequences for changing time.
Men went mad when faced with their past and future selves. Paradoxes were tirelessly sorted out by fate and most who'd meddled with time, from what Hermione had read, died mysterious or horrible deaths.
Done correctly and under Ministry scrutiny, time travel could be used for useful things, like allowing Hermione to take the extra classes she wanted.
Yet after Sirius Black had fallen through the Veil, Hermione met Death for the first time. And Hermione was afraid, not for herself but for Harry. If Harry fell to Voldemort, Hermione would risk all the warnings Dumbledore had given her and unravel the fabric of time to bring him back.
She hadn't been able to save Ron, but what if she found a way to save others? What if she truly were able to give them all the lives they had been meant to lead in the first place? Before evil perverted fate's purest plan?
It's a lovely fantasy, came the bitter thought. Or is it only fantasy?
What if Dumbledore's warnings were only to protect her, to scare her into submission? Their beloved Headmaster had cared deeply for them, but Hermione had also watched him use people like Harry to manipulate events in the war.
Had his caution been for other reasons? Had they been from personal experience?
The light rainstorm increased its pace overhead, and her thoughts came quicker.
What if we could undo our mistakes and Dumbledore's?
I wish I could go far enough to give Harry the people he needs. He should have had his whole family fighting with him and not just me...
What had she truly accomplished in the end?
Thunder rumbled distantly. The sound echoed in Hermione's ears and she realized how foolish her train of thought had become. How could she even consider such a giant leap through time?
It was proven no one could go farther back than several hours of their past without causing irrevocable damage. Although there was no real way to tell if anyone had been able to change the timeline, she supposed.
Since recovering her time turner, Hermione had been unable to test it. Especially while keeping up with the other chaos that was her life. It was only a preventative measure, she reassured herself. With that, Hermione curled her fingers over her time turner and looked for Harry.
The faint outline of his lanky frame was missing from the front of the tent. Hermione could hear nothing beyond the light mist of rain tapping the tent canvas.
Rising from her cot, Hermione changed out of her filthy clothes and into a pair of jeans, a jumper and trainers before wrapping her cloak around her shoulders. She recovered the time turner as an afterthought, the warm hourglass comforting in her palm as she stepped through the opening and into the rain.
The forest was so dark, she could barely see two meters. It was long past midnight, yet the clouded sky held star and moonlight at bay.
Hermione's fist tightened against the tiny hourglass in her hand as she called, "Harry?"
Silence.
The forest was too quiet. Not even insects or animals disturbed the eerie peace.
Hermione swallowed as she pulled her wand from its holster to check the wards Harry had set around their camp. It was a small comfort his charms were nowhere nearly as precise as Hermione's. Yet more disturbing, they were firmly intact, and that meant her best friend must not have left.
"Harry?" she dared call louder, as she walked around the tent. Her eyes strained to see through the night black as pitch, yet she was too wary to cast Lumos.
A limb cracked in the forest ahead and her head snapped to follow the sound. She froze and waited.
Harry must have moved the wards farther to give him space to pace and to think, she rationalized…
Or he needed the loo.
She continued a list of possible scenarios, each less likely than the last. All the while, Hermione couldn't shake the chill that overtook her as she stepped farther into the forest.
That was when she happened to see it.
Distant flashes of color revealed the war ensuing beyond their wards.
"Harry!" Panic stole her reason as Hermione darted past the protection of the wards and into the storm.
Over the clash of thunder, the shouts of Death Eaters fell deaf.
Hermione did not pause to think as she ran, allowing the gusts of light to guide her way. Her heart pounded an uneven drumbeat in her chest. The strain of tapping into her magical reserves left her breathing ragged before she'd reached the battle. Yet she couldn't think about anything except for Harry. The storm, thankfully, hid her approach.
The Chosen One was holding his own against three Death Eaters as they rushed him. Still, others watched on from the forest. It was obvious they were trying to subdue Harry rather than kill him. That was a job only their Master would allow himself.
Hermione's grip tightened on her wand as she silently cast Protego at Harry. She released a breath as her shield stopped a scarlet curse from striking his back.
Harry turned toward Hermione and shouted, "Go!" His features clenched the moment he realized that by warning her, he'd given her away.
Hermione ignored Harry's plea. She had already released several more spells, one catching a tall Death Eater by surprise. He hit the ground with an agonized cry and several heads turned at once her direction.
"Kill the Mudblood!" The screeching voice was unmistakable. What was Bellatrix Lestrange doing here?
Hermione resisted the urge to go after the Witch who killed Sirius.
"No, Bellatrix! The Dark Lord has plans for her!" A haggard-looking Lucius Malfoy shouted over his sister in-law's mad ravings.
"Run Hermione! GO!" Harry screamed.
She knew he was right, knew that she was still too weak to be of much help. She should go, somehow get help... But each time she tried to listen to the voice of reason echoing Harry's cries, Hermione couldn't leave. Instead, she stood her ground and dodged several streams of hexes. The curses missed her by a hair's breadth each time.
Stupefy, Hermione thought the jinxes as quickly as she could. Ron's face burned at the back of her mind and urging her to move faster than she'd ever been able before. She kept an eye out for Harry and determined to keep her promise.
Together.
Despite the adrenaline coursing through her system, Hermione couldn't stop the Death Eaters from pressing harder against her.
The spells were coming too quickly.
The familiar strain was beginning to pull at her senses, seeping from her pores.
Hermione gasped as the first jinx hit her knees, knocking them out of place. She screamed and barely managed to cast a protective shield as she whispered the counter-curse.
POP
She screamed when two thick arms lifted her off the ground from behind.
POP
POP
The golden signatures of Aurors rushed into the fray. How they'd found them, Hermione didn't know. Harry must have sent a Patronus, came the errant thought as she watched the scene from the awkward angle she was being carried away.
There were more Aurors than she expected. Some took off dark cloaks to reveal familiar faces.
Not just Aurors, the Order.
Together, the Light side worked to disarm the Death Eaters who had attacked Harry.
Their game was over.
Hermione glimpsed as Remus Lupin grabbed a hysterical Harry from behind, restraining him. He was screaming her name. "Hermione! Hermione no! Let go of me damn it! Let go of me! Hermione! Hermione!"
Why was he so upset when she was fine?
Hermione turned to the Auror who had caught her in his arms, only to feel a sickening gust of hot breath against her cheek.
"You're sweet enough to eat love," the Death Eater growled, "shame the Dark Lord needs you unspoiled…for now."
Her blood ran cold as sharp teeth, accompanied by breath that smelled of rotting meat grazed the skin of her shoulder but did not pierce the skin.
Fenrir Greyback.
Reality came rushing down on her then. She was being carried away by the other Death Eaters, by a werewolf.
She reared her head back as hard as she could against his while kicking at his groin. Greyback lost his tight hold on her only a moment. It was enough.
Hermione jumped out of his arms as he stumbled and ran as quickly as she could. Mud and roots slowed almost immediately deterred her escape. Still, she ran, casting stray curses she prayed hit their mark.
Until she heard a familiar vicious cackle and saw a red stream of magic rush before her. Hermione collapsed onto her attacker, Bellatrix Lestrange.
"Filthy Mudblood," Bellatrix hissed as she shoved Hermione off of her and into the mud.
"Hurry Bella!" Lucius Malfoy urged.
The shouts of Aurors were not far behind them.
"What about the locket?" Bellatrix giggled as Lucius pulled Hermione's limp body into his arms.
"We have our prize, for now," Lucius replied.
Fenrir had not come yet, at least. Hermione hoped the Aurors had already hexed the bastard to oblivion. Tears were leaking from Hermione's eyes. Her fists were still clenched over her broken wand and the time turner and she realized what she had to do. If Voldemort got his hands on a time turner, Hermione was certain she would wake to a world with no Muggles left.
She thought of the spell, just as Malfoy Apparated.
No!
The sky was lighter here. Yet, only able to glare at the sky, Hermione had no clue where they had taken her.
Bellatrix was cackling. "Filthy Mudblood whore! The Dark Lord will show you how your precious wittle family will be treated! He'll kill them slowly and make you watch! Then, he'll make you scream until wittle Blood Traitor Potter comes rushing in to save you!"
"Bella…" Malfoy's flat tone implied that he'd clearly had enough.
Hermione had done very little wandless magic. It was dangerous if done incorrectly and Hermione did not trust her own inner power enough to try it. Now she had no choice. She screamed the spell silently, with greater intent and purpose than she had wished for anything before.
Lucius never saw it coming. Her wand flew from Bellatrix's grasp and into her hand, long enough for her to speak the counter curse keeping her frozen. She then jammed the tip of her wand into Lucius Malfoy's windpipe.
He dropped her with a strangled cry.
Hermione rolled to her feet and once began to run.
"You filthy Mudblood!" Bellatrix howled as she gave chase, "How dare you defy us!"
Despite her brief victory, Hermione knew she was too weak. She knew Bellatrix was too fast. The Pureblood lunged at Hermione and the younger Witch backed both of them against a nearby tree. A tangle of limbs, nails, and screams later, the Witches fought with their bare hands now.
Hermione refused to let her win. She couldn't fail Harry, and couldn't betray Ron's promise!
A second wind gave her the energy she'd lost and with more force than she had intended she kneed the Witch, called the strange wand to her hand and shouted, "Crucio!" The Unforgivable fell from her lips with all the wrath Hermione had felt watching Ron fall because of her weakness. A sickly cold feeling sank beneath her skin and dug its claws deep and Hermione knew she would never be the same after this.
Bellatrix laughed in the beginning, then she screamed. Her mad gray eyes widened with surprise and finally fear when Hermione did not stop.
Hermione could barely find the will to stop when all she could see was Ron's bloody broken body behind her closed eyes. And then the thought of all who had fallen because of the ones who chose Voldemort's cause: Frank and Alice Longbottom, Sirius Black, Lily and James Potter…
"Petrificus Totallis!" Hermione finished and scrambled to her feet. Then she ran.
She didn't know exactly where Malfoy had brought them, didn't know where the Order would have taken Harry. Flashes of locations ran through her mind. An odd emptiness filled her as she realized none of these places were safe any longer. Not even Hogwarts.
Her vision blurred with tears and she lifted the hand that held her time turner to wipe them away. In that instant, she saw too late the rippling edge of a dark cloak and felt the force of a sledgehammer bash against the back of her head.
She crashed to the ground and the time turner smashed in between her palm and her chest.
A blinding light consumed her, colors she had never seen before dancing along the fringe of her vision.
A loud sickening roar began, unnatural and increasing in speed and volume until her screams were lost in it.
Until she felt the gush of blood matte her hair and chest and the light closed in.
Until all she could see or feel was heavy, oppressive darkness.