A/N: So this is the story that has been in my head for ages. I love a Tomione pairing. I feel like they could be either perfect adversaries or a true power couple given the right circumstances. Hopefully, I will be able to portray them as I see them in my mind. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the first chapter and I would also like to thank all the authors that write Tomione for inspiring me and for helping me, as well as others, to actually visualize the pairing.

Ps. For those of you that read Merlin's Box (my other in-progress story): This story is quite similar, in terms that Hermione is thrown back in time (sort of) and that she starts at eleven and has a twin. In any other way, the storylines are different. The reason for the similarities is just that I want her to have a perfect cover and not need to explain where she came from. Plus, as I mentioned in the MB, it helps with the paradoxes. Lastly, I promise you that writing this doesn't affect the time spent on MB. Actually, it rather helps when I'm stuck.

Pps. I would just like to warn some of you that Hermione in this fanfic will be technically a pureblood. I know some people hate when that happens.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything you recognize.

Chapter One- The Partial Reassignment

Hermione Jean Granger, 1998

As I lay there, trying to fight Bellatrix's Crucio, I felt my life slipping away. This was it, wasn't it? I wanted to survive, I really did, but this was too much. I didn't think I could hold on for much longer.

I heard Ron's voice, shouting for me, but it became more and more distant at each torturous second. Then I heard Bellatrix asking me about the sword. I lied. She knew I was lying, I could see it in her face. And yet, her posture visibly relaxed. She wanted to believe my lie. Why, though? Why was the sword so important to her? Was it the sword that was important? My mind was clearer now, I could think. There was something else in the vault.

She took a break from torturing me. They wanted Griphook to confirm my lie. I prayed that he would. She seemed more relaxed now. As relaxed as Bellatrix could be. Maybe she realized that if we did get the sword from Gringotts, she would already know about it. But what sword was in Gringotts then? Must have been a copy. A good copy.

She started torturing me again as I knew she would. Not with a Crucio this time; with a knife. It dug into my forearm. It hurt more than the unforgivable; must have been a cursed blade. I screamed louder than I ever have. Was she spelling something? Yes, she was. I knew the word. It has been shouted at me so many times by so many different people, especially Malfoy. Mudblood. Such a stupid term, it barely affected me anymore. So meaningless, pointless. I felt my head getting heavier and I knew I was going to pass out. What I didn't know was if this was the last thing I was ever going to see before I died.

I opened my eyes. I was alive. I was still at the manor.

I could see Harry and the others making their way towards me. Was that… Dobby? I was surrounded by chaos. Spells were going in every direction. I felt someone grab my arm. Ron. But something wasn't right. I should have not been awake; I should have been passed out. I didn't know how I knew it, but I did.

I was standing up, not sure how I was able to do so. Ron looked at me; he was surprised for a second, but then helped me up. He said that we needed to get out of there. I knew that. Just as he was about to grab Dobby's arm and disapparate, my eyes locked with Bellatrix's. She let out a growl and threw her knife at me just as we disappeared.

We've done it. I was beyond happy. We've actually got out.

Why did it feel wrong?

When we arrived I looked around. We were at a beach. Didn't Bill live near a beach? That must have been where we were.

I heard Ron's scream and I turned my face to look at him. He was looking at me with a strange expression on his face. Shock, maybe? I looked down. Bellatrix's knife was in my stomach and I was bleeding. A lot. I fell down. I could barely feel anything; must have been the adrenaline rush. Ron said something and grabbed my bag. He was looking for something. Ah, yes, the healing salve; of course.

"It won't help," I said, or rather whispered.

"Don't say that!" He shouted and continued his search.

"Ron," I let out a breath. It hurt to talk, it hurt to breathe. I knew I didn't have much time left. "It's a cursed blade, the salve won't do anything."

"No!" He was getting angry now. "I can't lose you, 'Mione! I can't!" He shouted through tears. "We already got through so much, we can do this."

I looked at him and I saw so many emotions in his eyes. We wasted so much time bickering and fighting these past few years. We could have been together. And now it was too late. The feeling of regret filled me up.

I forced myself up a bit so I could close the distance between us and kiss him. I caught him by surprise so he didn't respond straight away. And then he did. We kissed for what seemed like eternity, but were probably just a few seconds. I didn't want it to end but all my strength was leaving me. So I stopped him and lay back.

The adrenaline was leaving my system and the pain subsidized. I screamed. I felt my body shutting down. I was going to die any moment now.

"Don't leave me, Hermione! Don't you dare leave me!" He cried. "I can't survive without you. We can't survive without you," he said and I think he was talking about Harry. Where was Harry? "Fight this, 'Mione. I know you're strong enough to live through this."

Was I? I've been fighting for so long; I didn't think I had any strength left in me. We were so close to destroying Voldemort. So close to the happy ending. I knew they would win without me. They would be fine. The few regrets I had now were that I wouldn't be able to see the demise of that venomous, despicable creature and that I wouldn't be able to kill Bellatrix myself. I usually didn't wish death on people, but I really hoped that by the time this all ended, she would be in hell.

I looked at Ron. I needed him to know what I found out.

"Bellatrix. She has a horcrux in her vault," I whispered to Ron just before the pain consumed me. I hoped I was right. I knew he was saying something, but I could barely hear anything anymore.

I saw someone apparate in the distance. It was Harry. He saw me and started running towards us. But he would not make it in time. He was my friend, my brother. He was always by my side when I needed him. I owed him a goodbye. But it was too late.

As I drew what was probably my last breath, I saw my life flash before my eyes. My parents, Hogwarts, Harry, the Weasleys, Yule Ball, the Department of Mysteries, Dumbledore's funeral, Bill's wedding, the forest, Ron leaving, Ron coming back, the Snatchers, Bellatrix. I expected it to end there, but it didn't. It kept going, but it didn't make sense anymore. I saw a dragon in Gringotts, the Chamber of Secrets, the Room of Requirement, Molly killing Bellatrix, Voldemort's demise, my wedding to Ron and two beautiful children hugging me before they boarded the Hogwarts Express. I saw myself getting older, having grandchildren, laughing with Ron. Finally, I saw myself die. Peacefully; in my sleep.

I didn't know what that was. Probably a delusion. I wanted to live. I wanted that life. I was only eighteen. I really did not want to die today.

But I died anyway.

I opened my eyes. The first thing I noticed was that I was lying on grass in some sort of a field. Wasn't I just on the beach? The second thing that grasped my attention was that I felt no pain whatsoever. Something was wrong. Where were Ron and Harry? I searched my mind for some clues and the realization hit me like a bag of bricks. I was dead. This was probably the afterlife or something along those lines. Surprisingly, I didn't go into shock. I still had a feeling that the whole situation was not quite right, but all that aside, I felt… Calm, I think. Content, sort of. I wondered what happened now. Was there any way to find out if Harry succeeded? How much time has passed?

I stood up and tried searching for… I didn't know what I was looking for, but I had to do something.

I glanced down for a second. I was wearing a white flowery dress. It felt weird, I didn't like dresses. I wanted my jeans back. Just as I finished the though, I felt the dress changing. When I looked down again, I was wearing jeans and a simple white t-shirt. Much better. It felt like I was in the Room of Requirement. That gave me an idea.

"I want to know where I am and what has happened to me and my friends," I said out loud and wished for the best.

"Hello, Hermione," I heard a musical female voice behind me and turned around. The field scenery dissolved at the same time and I found myself standing in my favourite Transfiguration classroom.

The woman in front of me looked a bit like Luna, I concluded. She had pale skin, long silky blond hair and was wearing beautiful lavender colored robes. She was also giving me a very calculating look, as if I was a puzzle that she was trying really hard to solve.

"Hello," I said finding my voice. "Where am I?"

"Well, Hermione," she started and cocked her head to the side. "You are somewhere that you really should not be at this point in time."

"What?" I questioned taken aback.

"You were never supposed to die at that beach," she said calmly. "There was, let's just say, a small misunderstanding," she answered.

I heard an angry snort and turned around to see an irritated looking girl sitting in one of the chairs. She was about ten or eleven, wearing what seemed to be very expensive vintage looking robes.

"Who is that?" I questioned the woman.

"Another misunderstanding," the woman answered.

"A misunderstanding?!" The little girl shouted. "How dare you! Do you even know who I am?"

"Was she not supposed to die too?" I turned away from the tantrum throwing child and looked at the Luna look-alike.

"Oh no, she was supposed to die, alright," the woman answered. "Her path leads to an early death in every timeline."

"Charming," the girl scoffed behind me, probably rolling her eyes.

"What do you mean in every timeline?" I asked.

"There are different magical timelines or realities all happening simultaneously, never meant to cross paths. In some of them good wins; in others it is the other way around. Thousands upon thousands of decisions influence the ultimate outcome. Once you die, your magic comes here and is reassigned to a differently conditioned reality. It helps it develop," she explained. "Your death is a big problem to us because you are what we call a 'game changer' in most of your timelines; including the one you just left."

"I am?"

"Yes. Without you there is no win or lose. In any timeline the side you choose to help tends to have an advantage. It's how your magic was designed. The accidental removal of your magic from the system made it quite unstable."

"Okay," I answered slowly trying to take it all in. "So if I wasn't meant to die, send me back. I need to help my friends."

"It's not that simple," she answered. "You are dead already. You died in your friend's arms. I am a magic guardian; I'm not supposed to turn back the time. I can only manipulate the timelines as they progress."

"Magic guardian," I whispered. I remembered reading about them. They were supposed to be a myth. "Then why am I still here?" I questioned. "Shouldn't I be reassigned?"

"That's where she comes in," the woman pointed to the little girl. "Your timelines have crossed by accident and you died instead of her. We brought her magic for rebirth and reassignment anyway, but her body is still technically alive. You will take her place," she stated as if it was no big deal.

"I what?" I said at the same time the girl, who was strangely silent before, shouted, "she what?"

"The balance needs to be restored and we cannot have a body without any substance in it. Your magic-" she pointed at me, "is supposed to develop in its current state. While you-" she nodded at the girl, "are scheduled for a full reassignment." She continued looking at the child. "The only reason you're still here is because I have to transfer your knowledge of your timeline to her," she gestured in my direction.

"You cannot give my body to her," the girl sneered. "Look at her. She won't know what to do with it. She will ruin my family's name. Just kill me and get it over with."

"I had just about enough of you," the woman answered and in a second the girl was unconscious. She looked at me afterwards, "Are you ready to go to 1938?"

"1938?" I looked at her, shock in my eyes. "That's when…Voldemort started Hogwarts," I concluded. "But wait, didn't you say you cannot manipulate time?" I asked truly confused.

"And I won't. Her timeline is at that time right now," she explained.

"Oh. Okay," I took a deep breath. "Will I remember my previous life?" I questioned. There was really no other reason for her to explain everything otherwise.

"You will," she confirmed my suspicions.

"But why? Do I have a mission? Am I supposed to kill Riddle or save him?" Was I supposed to kill a child who hasn't yet committed the crimes?

"You don't have a mission, Hermione; you can do whatever you want," she stated. "What happened to you was our fault and we have a protocol for these situations. You will have your knowledge so you can influence this timeline in a way that you weren't able to influence your last one. It's our way of apologizing. Plus, removing your memories would only remove the essence of your magical force and not fix the unbalance."

I felt overwhelmed. "Is this my only option?"

"Unfortunately."

I sighed. A new beginning. I could do this. And Voldemort was only a child, which meant I could stop him. I could give Harry his parents back; give everyone the relatives that they lost back. Maybe even stop prejudice while I was at it. At least in this timeline. "Okay," I nodded. "So, who is she then?" I gestured at the unconscious girl. "Whose life am I taking over?"

"You are about to find out," the woman said and pointed her wand at me.

Hermione Jacqueline Nott, 1938 - Before the Reassignment

As I lay here, on my exquisite four poster bed with emerald green curtains, surrounded by Egyptian cotton and all things luxurious, I felt my life slipping away.

It really was quite unfair. I was eleven, this should not have been happening. I was about to start Hogwarts in a few short months. Let me clear that up. I was about to rule Hogwarts in a few short months. I was a Nott and we Notts were the purest of the pure. So pure, my father was qualified enough to write a book about it. We held the power, the status and the wealth. According to my father, our family was as old as the magic itself. And yet, I was dying from some muggle disease nobody knew the name of; that neither magic nor galleons could fix. Ironic, wasn't it? My father refused to let a muggle healer look at me. He would rather let me die than spend a second in the presence of dirt. Just as well. It would have been too late anyway.

I was intelligent and talented. I've already mastered my Occlumency (something that all Purebloods were taught from the moment they showed signs of magic), already read through the first and second year Hogwarts course material, as well as some extra darker texts from the family library. Not to mention I've learned to control my magic by the age of five, for Merlin's sake. Yet, I was the one who was dying.

I was rather pretty too when I was not dying. I had shoulder-length straight hair that was either dark blonde or light brown depending on how you looked at it, olive-ish skin and blue eyes. Lovely combination, if I did say so myself. I would've definitely grown up pretty enough to use it to my advantage or to marry any pure-blooded boy I wanted. If I was given an opportunity to grow up, that is. Which I was not. Because I was dying.

Not that I would need a man for my plans; of which I had many, by the way. However, my father kept saying, "Alliances through marriage are more than advantageous, if you do it correctly." And he was right, of course. Nothing intimidated people more than a right name. And intimidated people were far more accommodating. If you added vast wealth to that, there was virtually nothing that could stop you. And if you put in a bit of effort and intelligence into the mix, you might as well start shopping for the throne right then. Which I won't be able to do. Because I was dying.

Oh, I was also so conniving, I scared myself sometimes. I didn't even agree with my father's ideals. I mean, of course I believed that most muggleborns were inferior to me, but not because of their blood. That was stupid. They were inferior to me because they didn't hold any power in the magic world. They didn't have connections, they knew absolutely nothing about how the things were done in our world, they only started learning about magic once they started Hogwarts (which put them so far behind they obviously couldn't really be expected to keep up) and, most importantly, a lot of powerful purebloods hated them and wanted them gone. Even if their magic was strong, they had no chance of success, because of the prejudice. Because of all that, they were expendable. Quite a pity, really. This whole hatred could so easily be used to manipulate and gain control, it was ridiculous. Sometimes I wondered if others thought the same and, like me, called them mudbloods because it was beneficial to do so, or actually truly believed the inferior blood nonsense like my family. I would never find out, though. Because I was dying.

So unfair. I was so much smarter, so much better than my twin brother Theodore and he was the one who got to live. He was the one for whom my father would actually consider muggle treatment, if the need arose. All because he was the one with the ability to provide an heir that would continue the family name. I, on the other hand, was not important enough to keep. Any grandchild I could offer would not be Nott enough for my father.

Don't get me wrong, my father adored me. He would have loved for me to get through this. I was his little girl; A child, who followed his orders to the T, never did anything crazy; a true picture perfect type. Not perfect enough, however, to soil his reputation by inviting filth into the house. He spent a lot of money on the best magical treatment to keep me alive longer, but that was as far as he was willing to go for his little pureblooded princess. To be fair, though, he did not really know how powerful I could become with time, how intelligent I already was or what a perfect little Slytherin he was losing. And he wouldn't ever find out. Because I was dying.

My eyes closed on their own, I was surrounded by darkness and I knew this was the end of me. Knowing it didn't make it better, however. I wanted to live. I deserved to live. I was only eleven. I really did not want to die today.

But I died anyway.

Hermione Jacqueline Nott (previously known as Hermione Granger), 1938 – After the Reassignment

I woke up with a sudden intake of breath, sat up and looked at my surroundings. It wasn't a dream.

"Oh, Merlin, I'm a Nott"

A/N: And that was the first chapter. What did you think? I know that the whole travel to the 1938 process was crazy, but I swear it made sense in my head and I wanted to use something different that what I did in Merlin's box.

Anyway, please follow and/or favourite and/or review if you liked it or have some constructive criticism. And if you hated it… Well, I'm sorry and I wish you all the best in your future fanfic exploration.