So, first story! I'm sort of scared, I hope someone finds this at least remotely interesting. It's a bit unconventional, because though it deals with time warps, it doesn't involve time-turners. Anyways, if you feel confused or don't understand some things after reading the chapter, please leave me a review or PM me and I'll answer all questions.

I hope you review, anyway :)

Chapter 1: Breeding Chaos

The patter of rain on the rooftops was steady and constant. Tip, tap, tip, tap, it went and she felt safe knowing it was still late afternoon and it was still raining.

There weren't many things she was sure of, at the moment. It was comforting to hear something that wouldn't change any time soon.

Panic had a way of sweeping over her thoughts, making her unable to continue working for several minutes.

That's when she would get up and walk around the room to clear her head. She'd think about the weekend, she'd think about getting home again, seeing Ron and Harry and her parents. And just generally, being back in 2004.

You never really appreciated certain commodities until you had to live without them. It was true that people like her had magic on their side to smooth out the "rough" edges of living in a Post-War Era, but, witch or not, 1949 was still a pretty dreary year to get through.

Friday was right around the corner, though.

Every Friday night she would use the Temporal Portkey at the designated hour. She had to warm it up an hour in advance, since hers had taken the shape of a thermometer and it couldn't be heated magically.

But Hermione was nothing but resourceful. She would place it on a towel over a bucket filled with scalding water. Then she'd wait and count the minutes until she could go home.

Every night Ron saw her land on the hill outside The Burrow, he'd rush to her with a look of dread on his face. But the dread quickly turned to joy. He always worried there would come a time when she wouldn't return. Which she found endearing, but ultimately, irrational.

"I can't get trapped there, Ron. Time is flexible and open to magical use. I come and go as I please and it's not dangerous at all. The system works really well, actually."

He'd nod and smile, but she could tell he'd never be convinced.

She still remembered the aversion he used to have against her time-turner when they were at Hogwarts.

"Anything that messes with time is bad news in my book," he'd say and whatever she argued back just wouldn't hold water to him.

"This is a completely different method, it's nothing like a time-turner –"

No.

"It's been tested a thousand times –"

No, still.

"I've gone back and forth more than a dozen times and I'm not missing any limbs, nor has the fabric of time been turned upside down –"

Not good enough.

"It can't change the past or modify the future, it doesn't work like that, it's only a very helpful research tool –"

He didn't believe that.

"Look, we've talked about this before. Even if I did run into someone I would later meet in the present or future, they wouldn't be able to recognize me. I wouldn't change anything."

But even that made him twinge with doubt. It was true that he himself wouldn't be able to tell it was her, but any concealment spell had a flaw, a weakness. He was an Auror now and he knew these things. If someone put their mind to it, her disguise could be rendered useless.

And she would probably worry about it more if she read all the reports he had to go over about concealment spells going wrong.

Why hadn't she become an Auror like him? She would have been Head Auror in no time. They could have all worked together; her, him and Harry. The Trio reunited.

Instead, she'd chosen to do research in Runology. As if Ancient Runes hadn't been torture enough during their school years.

He'd thought Runology would be a safe, even boring desk job.

If he'd known she'd have to travel back and forth in time just for some bloody runes and risk getting herself and others in danger...

"If I had changed anything, wouldn't we see the effects of it now? The present, our present, would be completely different, wouldn't it?"

But Ron had read one of the several manuals published by the Ministry on Temporal Portkeys. There were accidents, sometimes.

Sometimes, you split a dimension in half. He didn't really understand how, but it was written there in black and white.

What if she'd done that? What if in another dimension everything was changed?

He thought she would dismiss the idea, but instead she smiled and said,

"Everything is changed, in another dimension. But not in ours. It can't affect us."

He didn't understand.

"I've read all the manuals, Ron, and I've studied all the possibilities, as have many before me. You're worrying about something which exists outside our control. Splitting dimensions is rare in the magical world, but it does happen and has happened before the Temporal Portkeys and will happen after there's no Portkey left. There may be as many dimensions out there as there are people and we can do nothing about it. If you start thinking about all the possibilities, you go insane. Just know that it can't harm us. There's nothing terrible about another version of us somewhere out there, slightly different. There could be thousands. It has nothing to do with us."

Indeed, why would it concern them?

Hermione laughed as she remembered the arguments now. She laughed because there was something terrible about it, something she hadn't thought mattered, at the time.

How did you know which dimension you were in? How did you know which version you were?

If there were thousands of dimensions and thousands of versions of yourself, how did you know?

How did you know this was the "real" dimension?

How did you know this was "your dimension", the one you'd grown up in, gone to Hogwarts in, fought in the Second Wizarding War in, fallen in love in?

How did you know you weren't a "modified" version of yourself?

And if all versions were slightly different, how did you even know what "modified" meant?

Who would the real Hermione Jean Granger be? What would be an "unmodified" version of her?

Hermione frowned as she watched a car speed through the twilit city, splashing puddles as it went. She was supposed to clear her thoughts, not breed more chaos.

She sighed and rubbed her tired eyes.

Two weeks ago, she wouldn't have had to clear her head.

Two weeks ago, she wasn't asking herself these questions.

Because two weeks ago, she hadn't caused a split in dimensions.

Two weeks ago, she hadn't run into Tom Riddle.