Author's Note: I can almost hear you all screaming at me for starting another story when I have yet to update the ones I already have going on. What can I say? The plot bunny is a disgusting motherfucker who won't leave me the hell alone.

Warning: This story will be about time-travel. If that's not your thing, leave now.

Disclaimer: I'm not the owner of anything. Unfortunately.

Preface

Hermione ran.

She ran, trying to stay sharp as she raced towards the pull in her chest, which only intensified the closer she came to her other half. She tried to ignore the pain, knowing a second of neglect could change everything. Hermione couldn't die, not yet. Not while he needed her still.

She dodged the spells crossing her path, running in a zigzag motion as much as she could. The red, blue and green hexes came from every side, forming a deadly labyrinth in front of her. The layers of protective spells she had around herself wouldn't hold against most of the dark magic the Death Eaters were throwing around, so her only choice was to pray nobody attacked her from behind.

From the corner of her eye, she could see Neville fighting against Dolohov, a look of determination in his face despite the blood seeping from a large wound in his shoulder. Hermione threw a tripping spell their way, wishing she could do more for her fellow Gryffindor friend, but not entirely able to stop running. When she saw the yellow spell hitting Dolohov directly in the legs, she smiled. Neville would take over from there.

Her happiness was short-lived, however, because a masked Death Eater sent the unmistakable green light of the killing curse her way, forcing her to roll to the floor in order to avoid the torturous grasp of death. Hermione couldn't die, she was needed somewhere else. The tugging was nearly unbearable at that point, which made a cold sweat break from the forehead. He needed her, now. She needed to dispose of the distraction as quickly as possible.

So she did something that would be impossible to justify later on: she allowed the anger coursing through her body; the fear of losing him before she could ever reach where he was; the anxiety numbing most of her rational thoughts, to overcome her sense of rightness and justice. Hermione raised her wand and opened her mouth only enough to hiss out the killing curse. Unlike herself, her opponent never had the chance to dodge the spell. It hit him right in the stomach, sending him down straight away.

Hermione moved. There was no time to think about what she had done. Her body only had space for the need to reach him. She was getting close — any minute now she would cross paths with him. Her eyes frantically searched for the familiar figure in the mess of bodies surrounding her. It was a horrible mess all around the beautiful grounds of Hogwarts, with dead bodies fallen on the ground, blood smearing every surface available and, worst of all, the macabre symphony of war echoing nonstop. With her heightened sense of hearing, it was possible to hear every hiss, every moan, every scream, and every bone-crushing yell.

Finally, Hermione saw him, fighting against three opponents at the same time, and although he seemed to be holding his own sufficiently well, they would only need a moment of distraction to end the dance. She couldn't allow that. She pushed her body forward faster, trying to ignore the burning in her legs and the heavy breathing. It would all be worthy to save his life.

It was a mistake, however. Her proximity caused the tugging to cease immediately and he sensed the lost. He would know what that meant and, like the infuriating protective man he was, make him turn to see where she was. He screamed:

"RUN, HERMIONE!"

"NO!" She screamed in return, not in response to his demand but in fear when she saw the Death Eater seize the opportunity to hex his back. She sent a protego at the same time, praying to all the deities she never believed in her life to save the man she loved.

His eyes met hers seconds before the green light hit his back, sending Remus falling to the floor. Her shield was a fraction of a second too late. She had been too late. His dead body hit the floor and the mark on her neck began to burn like a wildfire cursing inside her body. It was unbearable.

He was dead. Dead.

Her knees buckled and Hermione slumped to the floor, her hands raising to press on the burning mark. Her vision began to blacken and she lost any awareness of her surroundings. Her body was on fire and she surrendered to it gladly.

The last words on her lips were a scream of his name before it all went black and Hermione Granger was no more.