Authors Note: Okay, so welcome to my first attempt at a Tom/Hermione story. This is going to be a bit confusing, and I don't have it completely planned out yet…but hopefully it will be okay. If I decide to continue. This is probably stupid of me to put up since I already have two other running stories up but oh well.

Anyway, I would also just like to note that it occurred to me while writing that the story may bear some resemblance to 'Masters of Manipulation' by Nerys, just because of the randomly time travelling thing. However, that's pretty much the only similarity and it is all pure coincidence. Plus, anything she writes will always be infinitely better than mine and so much more creative anyway.

So er. Yes. That's it. First Tom/Hermione, don't know what I'm doing, confused, hoping for some feedback (reviews, wink wink?), etc. Onward!

chapter one: i was a flower of the mountain

March 15, 2097

An elderly man sat alone in a room, absent-mindedly twirling his holly wand between his fingers. He was quietly musing about years ago and the people lost to them. His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a loud CRACK as a teenage girl with messy brown curls tumbled onto his floor.

He merely smiled, "When are you coming from?"

The girl dusted herself off as she sat back on the floor and surveyed the old man.

"Last in 1945, it was winter there. It always seems ironic that I've found a sort of permanence within my temporal fluidity. When am I?"

The man settled back in his wooden chair, "March, 2097. It's been awhile, Hermione."

She smiled at him, her old friend. Her keen eye immediately picked up a forlorn look on his face; this would be one of their last visits for him. She knew.

"How is he?" the man asked.

Hermione sighed, "He's fine, at the moment. It's so difficult to- he's so difficult. I never know. I'm sorry for everything, I'm sor-"

"Hermione," he cut her off, "I trust you. You don't need to seek my forgiveness, you'll do what is right. I've missed you." He wanted to tell her the truth, what she did, the future he lived in now.

Hermione choked back a sob as tears started to fill her usually calm eyes. Before she could speak, however, she began to feel the familiar sensation of being ripped unwillingly through time.

"Harry!" she cried out, throwing her arms around his aged neck and whispered, "Thank you, I love you."

Harry felt the girl slipping away in his arms, forced to be pulled through time again.

Always.

Swallowing, Harry James Potter crossed off a date on a sheet of parchment next to him, the last on the list. He closed his eyes and prepared himself to die. Time was nothing.

July 31, 1997

Hermione Granger was puzzled. That, actually, was an understatement. She had received a book from Dumbledore, Tales of Beedle the Bard. Firstly, Hermione reasoned, it was rather bizarre that Dumbledore would leave anything to Hermione to begin with. While she had greatly admired the man and they had shared a few deep conversations, their relationship was nowhere near as intimate or friendly as the great wizard had been with Harry. So why did he leave her this old book?

Hermione bit her lip as she inspected the gift. It seemed normal enough. She carefully slid her fingers over the aged cover, exploring each inch of leather with careful attention. Nothing. There had to be a reason beyond giving her a book of fairy tales, she was sure of it. Sighing, she set the book down beside her on her bed and laid back.

She was staying in Ginny's room, and the red-headed girl was already fast asleep across the way. Hermione gazed around her at the moving Quidditch posters eagerly waving before zooming off with a quaffle; at the framed picture of Harry and Ginny by the lake on Ginny's bedside table- Harry repeatedly laughing before kissing Ginny on the head; at Ginny's quiet breathing.

Hermione sighed. Frustrated, she picked up the book again. She couldn't rest knowing that there might be hidden secrets enclosed within the book.

Picking up a quill, Hermione tried carefully inscribing her name on the front page. While she hated to deface an antique by marking it as her own, perhaps there was some hidden magic. To her dismay, nothing happened.

Anxiously blowing a strand of unruly curly hair out of her face, Hermione began to grumble, "I need to know what is inside, what was he planning? I need to learn-" suddenly there was a clicking sound and a glow seemed to stem from the book in her hands.

Fascinated, Hermione looked down at the volume. A small compartment seemed to be appearing on the spine. Hermione carefully pried open the small space with her fingers. A small card and a piece of folded parchment fluttered out of the book onto her lap.

Eagerly Hermione read the looped handwriting on the parchment:

Ms. Granger,

I hope that you forgive me for what I fear may occur from my gift. However, I know that you and you alone had the capacity to induce what must occur. Use this well.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

MCMXLIV

In shock, she stared at the parchment in her hand. Finally Hermione reached out for the card and picked it up in her curious fingers. The instant her fingertips closed around the worn paper, Hermione felt the familiar and unpleasant tug on her navel as she was pulled away by a portkey.