Chapter 1

She had read stories about it, but never quite believed them to be true until one sunny day, when Arthur Weasley appeared in the entrance hall of Grimmauld Place 12, panting and nearly collapsing on the floor. He had just barely escaped the death eaters and the Crutiatus curse which came with them. His legs were still shaking, when Hermione found him nearly twenty minutes later, still standing at the exact same spot.

«Mr. Weasley! What happened? Harry! Get down here fast!»

Harry's Footsteps resonated through the nearly empty house as he came running, ready to curse whoever had intruded their safe haven. No one had ever been able to locate them at Grimmauld Place, but they knew time would come where they had to leave. His face changed instantly from angry to worried over to sad, when he saw what – or better who – had caused Hermione to raise her voice. The two oft hem had not really talked to eachother in days, every one oft hem trying to … (resolve) their feelings by themselves. Harry slowed down and reluctantly put his wand back in his holder.

The both of them helped Mr. Weasley to the kitchen, where they sat him down at the table. While Hermione was making tea in a muggle kettle – throwing worried glances at the two men behind her more than just once – Harry sat next to the older man. He had aged quite a bit, but it was no wonder, regarding what they had gone through the last few months.

"Arthur, what are you doing here?" Gently, Harry put his hand on Arthur's shoulder, trying to quieten down the still nervous wizard. His question might have buffled anyone who knew their relationship in the past, but Hermione just sighed at it. Since the incident two months ago, the Weasleys didn't talk to them anymore. At least not personally. They had not even seen each other since the funeral.

"I found one." Harry watched Arthur silently.

"What exactly did you find, Mr. Weasley?", asked Hermione, ignoring the whistling tea kettle behind her. It must have been something important, as the older wizard would never have come here otherwise. Her heart throbbed at the thought, so she quickly put it aside.

"A time turner." For the first time since he had intruded their house, Mr. Weasley looked at Hermione. His eyes, previously filled with wonder and love, seemed empty at this point. He had lost too many loved ones in this war and with them pieces of his soul he would never be able to get back. And still, as he talked about the one thing that could change the past, there was a slight flash of hope in his eyes.

"So it really exists?", Hermione asked nervously. "I thought it was just a murmur, just a bedtime story for kids…" Harry's glance changed between his best friend and Arthur.

"What are you talking about?", he asked a little confused. Of course time turners existed, all of them knew. Especially Hermione since she had used one herself in their third year. "Mind telling me what is going on?"

"A few weeks after … well, you know. I started researching different ways to change what had happened. Of course I found a lot of books about time turners, but none of them were able to go back more than a few days. I put it aside and started reading other, very different and sometimes dark books, but none held credible information. You might still remember the day you came barging in the library because you thought there was a fight going on." Indeed, he remembered the day quite vividly. He had awoken with a start when he heard what seemed to be a fight, but as he entered the library, the only person he saw was Hermione. He calmed down and looked around, just to find a big mess in Hermione's favourite room of the house. Books were lying around the floor in no recognisable order and one of the shelves had been smashed, possibly hit by a curse. As he knew Hermione was nowhere near finished, Harry nodded his head and kept listening.

"I… might have lost my mind there for a second. Sorry again, Harry. I desperately wanted to find something, so I started going through even the books I had deemed unimportant and found a book with fairy tales. Most of them were useless, but one caught my eye. It's called The Future Past." Hermione turned around amidst talking and went to rummage through her bag. At the time she came back, she was holding an old looking, leather-bound book.

"The story is about two brothers who had lost their parents in a fire two years prior. They were taken to an orphanage, where they were beaten and bullied by the other children. The older boy, Percy, told his younger brother the only way for them to get away was by praying. Their mother had told him that someone would help them if they did, whatever the situation. So they did. They prayed and prayed, but as the years went by, nothing happened. Just as Timothy – the younger brother - got impatient, a man appeared in their room, surrounded by glistening light. He didn't talk but held out his hand and gave them something small and silver before disappearing just as fast as he had appeared. The boys hid the small present they had gotten until one they were sure no one was around to see them look at it and possibly take it from them. Sadly, nothing happened, whatever they did to the clock. They had agreed for it to be a clock but didn't really understand how it worked, until Percy found a small button on the side of it and pressed it. The lights started to flare and suddenly everything began to spin. Just when they thought they'd have to vomit, the spinning stopped and they found themselves in a room that looked like theirs but didn't seem to be."

Harry felt as if he was one of the boys of the story, as his head seemed to spin.

"'Mione, get to the point.", he sighed, rubbing his aching head with one hand.

"What Hermione is trying to tell you is that they went back in time. The first time, it was only two minutes. The second time already two months. And after they completely understood how the time turner worked, they went back to save their parents, which means they went back two years.", Arthur finished Hermione's story. His voice was trembling, but still very clear to Harry. Hermione's skin went a few shades redder as she blushed. She had thought her summary was already short, but Mr. Weasley had said everything she wanted a lot quicker.

"I went to the Weasleys and talked to them about the possibility of a time turner like that existing, but in the end it was just a fairy tale. And now you're telling me that you actually found one. A silver time turner?"

The three of them were deep in discussions about the time turner as Ginny Weasley entered the room. Like all of her family members, she hadn't talked to the two best friends of her brother Ron since his death. She had blamed Hermione for his death and Harry didn't take her side. It had led to the two of them arguing about it for weeks, until Harry had decided to end their relationship. At least for some time. When her father had not come back home after work, she had started to feel nervous and sent George – who had gone to help their father with something at the ministry – a message by patronus, but he didn't know where their father had wandered off to, so she searched every place she thought of, even the ones that seemed impossible, which led her to Grimmauld Place.

"Dad.", she whispered, startling the three of them. Hermione sent a stunner in her direction, but Ginny managed to sidestep it just in time.

"Ginny! Oh my god, I'm so –" Hermione got cut off by Harry signing her to stop talking in the middle of her sentence. He sent her a sad smile and then turned around to face Ginny.

"It's not your fault, 'Mione. Ginny should have known better than that." The ginger headed girl sent him an angry look.

"Dad, let's go home. Now."

Hermione wanted to tell Ginny that it was important for them to keep discussing their plans on how to change the past, but she couldn't do it. Even if she wanted to talk, to make a small noise, she wouldn't be able to do it. Her voice refused to work. Without another word, Mr. Weasley nodded to them one last time and went with his daughter. He had told them everything they needed to know. He couldn't help them any more.

For the first time in a long time, Harry and Hermione sat in the same room. Yes, Harry had supported her after what had happened to Ron, but afterwards he couldn't look her in the eyes anymore. Because, well… It had indeed been her fault that their best friend was murdered. Despite what he told everyone, he had seen how it had happened. The curse was directed at Hermione, but Ron... Ron saved her by pushing her out of the way and taking the curse himself.

The Order dissolved at some part after Harry had defeated Voldemort. They felt safe without the most dangerous wizard there to tyrannise them, but were terribly mistaken as the death eaters had split only to come back stronger than before after a few months. Harry, Hermione and Ron had tried to gather as many people as possible to fight against the death eaters, but it was too late. They were overrun in just two months.

As a last resort, they had agreed on meeting in Godric's Hollow, but someone must have betrayed them. As soon as they arrived, they were greeted by flying curses and surrounded by more death eaters than they could count. Hermione didn't have any time to think while throwing curses at her enemies, which led to her getting in a tight spot at some point. She was cornered, being under constant attack by three – or maybe four – death eaters at the same time. Ron was the one who saw the curse coming first. Not Harry and certainly not Hermione herself. She had been so focused on duelling with her own enemies, that she didn't see the white haired man raise his wand at her. Harry still heard Hermione's scream in his dreams and couldn't get it out of his head.

Hermione watched Harry, who seemed to be deep in thought.

"Harry…", she whispered.

"Don't Hermione. I know." He raised his head and looked at her. Really looked at her for the first time in what had felt forever. She looked tired and utterly defeated. Her hair was greasy and had probably not been washed in a long time, but what really caught his eye were her hands. Her fingertips were wrapped in band-aids, the skin that could be seen shimmered reddish and seemed to be rough.

Hermione saw him looking at her hands and started to rub them. She felt the blood rush to her cheeks, but tried to ignore the feeling. This was Harry. She didn't need to be embarrassed by what was going on with her.

"I can still see the blood on them." She lowered her head as the tears started to fall. "I don't even remember whose blood it really was, but I can still see it. It always looks so real, Harry. I can't get it away, no matter how many times I wash and rub my hands." She was shaking, afraid of the nearly endless pit of darkness inside of her that had started to build many, many years ago. How had she become so weak? She had been strong for such a long time, always a tower of strength for everyone around her, but it changed in a single second. The war against Voldemort had already weakened her, but Ron's death had broken her heart. Her soul. Her whole being. The prospects of a recovery were bad, as she deeply believed she would never be able to live again without one of her two best friends. One of the only people she had loved and still did even in his death.

Harry sat there, watching her rub her hands slightly in embarrassment. Would she have ever told him if he had not seen it? Probably not as she was still the same strong-willed witch she had been in their school years.

"You could have told me about it. Telling someone is supposed to help, isn't it?"

"Do you really think so, Harry? Do you really think something as simple as talking would have helped me when it started? It wouldn't have. Not at all. I really don't know why everyone thinks it should help." She looked at him, her feelings somewhere between angry and confused and eventually decided on a simple, sad smile. "I wanted to talk to you, though. It's bloody time!"

Harry returned the smile. "True. Now how about we go to sleep and talk about our plans tomorrow?"

Just when Harry wanted to enter his bedroom, he felt a small hand on his shoulder.

"Could you… I mean… I know it's been some time, but could you maybe sleep next to me this night? I could really need some sleep."

Harry nodded and accompanied her to her room. As the two of them laid in her bed, Harry holding the fragile witch in his arms, the last thought that went through his head was how he would do anything to keep her as close as possible.