What's up, my dudes? I am back with another story. Fremione, like I promised. This one is probably not going to be long, but what do I know. I hope you enjoy. If you don't that's fine.
Tropes: Time Travel AU, Fix-it AU, Friends to Lovers, Magical Connection
Disclaimer: None of this is mine. I just threw it together.
Hermione Granger could pinpoint the exact turn of events that led her to this moment, bound and gagged on the cold stone floor of a remote cave. Some would say it was a way to deal with her survivor's guilt, others would say it was typical Gryffindor heroics. Hermione would say it was vengeance, that it was her duty to avenge those she left behind. No matter what it was, she still felt empty each time.
It started simple enough, Kingsley arrived a few months after the war and offered Harry, Ron and her places in the Ministry, more specifically, in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement as aurors. She turned down the offer, planning on returning to Hogwarts and finishing her NEWTs before applying to the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Harry didn't hesitate to take Kingsley's offer, follow in his father's footsteps, and finish this war once and for all. Ron, naturally, followed Harry's example. Hermione was inwardly relieved when he did, Ron had become a shell of what he was in his grief. Not to mention the lackluster snogging he tried to fill his void with. She tried to be there for him, she really did, but somewhere along the way her puppy love ran out.
Everything seemed to be going fine. The boys were training, and she and Ginny were studying for NEWTs at Hogwarts which had been magically rebuilt. Even still, she often felt useless, and the cold hands of grief gripped her in a vice every day. Her nightmares were constant. She relived everything at night, every curse, every scar, every death, all over again. She'd just burry the feeling under books and studying – anything to keep her mind occupied. She felt that she needed something, there was an undeniable urge and an empty space in her to fill, but she didn't know how to solve it. Not knowing was something very new to her.
It wasn't until Harry brought home a very pale, trembling Ron in the middle of Christmas break that Hermione found what she needed. Ron had taken one moment in the field before crumbling under extreme PTSD flashbacks, so Hermione took his place – Harry needed a partner he trusted after all. She jumped at the chance to leave Hogwarts early, she saw those hallways in her dreams every night, seeing them during the day only brought her more pain. She excelled in training like she did everything else, the fight made her feel like she was doing something worthwhile, filling that void if only for the moment.
Their first true assignment came in the form of Antonin Dolohov. He was hiding somewhere in Russia, and they were tasked to track him down and bring him in. She had read the name and a slow smirk formed on her face. The image of Remus Lupin's cold, pale, lifeless body lying motionless in the great hall was plastered on the back of her eyelids, and she remembered the purple fire charm in great detail. If her nightmares would ever let her forget, the jagged purple scar crossing her torso wouldn't. The DMLE didn't specify what condition to bring the death eater in in after all.
It was easy. They didn't question his injuries, just his crimes. He was locked away in Azkaban after a smooth trial, but where Harry felt triumph in his accomplishment, Hermione still felt incomplete. So she made a list of every outstanding death eater and what horrible, most of the time personal, atrocity they'd committed. She checked off each one, every time she'd avenge someone. It was never enough. She still felt the empty void gnawing at her.
It had been a little over a year since the Final Battle, and she was quickly becoming the best auror in the department. Almost her entire list was checked off as she was nothing if not organized and efficient. She'd gone by herself this time - nothing she hadn't done before. Harry always scolded her for endangering herself, but even still, he couldn't help the grin that spread across his features at watching her check off another name. She'd been tracking this one for a while, he never stayed in the same place too long and obliviated anyone who saw him. She'd tracked him to a remote cave in Iceland, she thought she could take him by surprise, but in her haste, she underestimated him again.
So there she was, bound and gagged, in the depths of a dank cave, the cold from the stone floor seeping through her layers, listening to the certifiably insane man explain an elaborate plan. She internally cursed herself for being so foolish. No one knew where she was, this was to be a quick in and out job that would be a brilliant surprise for the Weasley family. She thought that maybe this one would be enough for her to let go finally. After all, she was in the corridor when it happened, she watched the light leave his mirth-filled eyes, she watched Percy chase this man in his regret-filled rage.
She hoped that bringing in Augustus Rookwood would alleviate the pain in her chest she feels when she thinks of Fred. When she thinks of the day George broke all the mirrors in the house. When she thinks of Percy's confession of wishing it was him instead. When she heard Mrs. Weasley call George 'Fred' and broke down in violent shoulder-jerking sobs. When she caught Mr. Weasley staring at his son's spoon that had fallen off the clock. When she hears Ginny's muffled cries for her brother at night, and Ron drinking that extra glass of Firewhiskey, and sees Bill avoid looking at George, and how Charlie didn't even come home for Christmas. Or when Harry notices all of it and apologizes as if he was that one that sent the wall crumbling.
"You hear that, Mudblood?" Rookwood's raspy voice addressing her brings her out of her inner musings. "You're going to help us, hmm? Yes, yes, yes, yes." He muttered trailing off.
She rolled her eyes and looked around. His back was turned, he was fiddling with something in his tattered bag. A small fire was crackling and popping but offered no warmth; his shadow was thrown on the wall, flickering. She was happy to find that the lunatic didn't even take her wand. She mentally scoffed at his incompetence. If only she could reach it. She stretched her arm against the restraint on her wrists, reaching down toward her disillusioned thigh holster. The built-in armor on her auror standard, skin-tight dragon hide pants and matching jacket was unforgiving and didn't allow her purchase.
"Ah, ah, ah. Not yet, Muggle." Rookwood tsked after turning around, but did not take her wand. She figured he must be more insane than she thought. She hoped this didn't give him the right to plea insanity in trial. That wouldn't bring anyone closure, it would only make things worse.
He calmly walked closer to where she half-lay, half-sat against the stone wall and began his disjointed explanation.
"I'm not happy, no, no, no, no, not happy. My Lord will be so pleased with me when my plan works. He will know who helped him, who deserves his praise. Not the Malfoys this time, no, no, no, no."
He trailed off muttering about traitors before his gaze set on her once more. "You're going to help us, Mudblood, imagine how pleased my Lord will be when he sees that his most loyal follower sent him Potter's whore and all the information to win. Yes, yes, yes he will reward me so-"
He paused in his speech and began whispering "Patience" over and over while fumbling through his robes and pulling out his trinket and smiling with a mouth full filthy, rotted teeth. She froze, eyes never leaving the hourglass on the gold chain and the baby blue sand that lies inside. She began reaching in earnest for her wand, ignoring the pain in her wrists from the restraints. Eyes so focused on the hourglass, she did not fail to notice the crack in the glass, leaking an almost imperceptible stream of sky blue sand.
"Oh yes, you see, I worked in the Department of Mysteries for years, imagine my glee when I found them making this." He held up the Time Turner and both sets of eyes watched it swing back and forth like a pendulum. "Hmm, your little stunt with all your friends in the Time Room didn't prevent this, no."
She couldn't help but wish it had. This man was unhinged and dead set on doing something rash, she needed to get control of this situation immediately.
"Light blue sand is peculiar, they said, very, very, very peculiar indeed. The Sands of Purpose they called it." His eyes darted to hers with a manic gleam. "Do you know what my purpose is, Muddy?"
He fumbled with the chain untangling it and throwing it around her tense form.
"They called you bright, that Potter's Mudblood whore was supposed to be bright, bright, bright. You can't even tell me what my purpose is, how can you be bright?" He muttered while turning the nobs on the device not noticing or not caring about Hermione's struggling.
"You don't have to be bright to bring the victory of the war." He laughed hysterically stepping back.
Hermione was hyperventilating. The prototype time-turner was going off, if what the muttering fool was to be believed she was about to be sent to the doorstep of the Dark Lord once again.
She took one last fleeting look at the ragged murderer before disappearing in a whirlwind of flashing white and baby blue light. She heard the explosion of the device before she felt it. Her stomach where the instrument rested was on fire, it was infinitely worse than Bellatrix's knife ever was. She screamed. The nausea turning underneath the pain was violent compared to her third year experience with time travel. Somewhere along the way she passed out.
She fleeting thought was of her failure in avenging the red-headed prankster she used to scold.