AN: So basically Peter Pettigrew sends Hermione back in time to kill him and save the future, Hermione will have a crisis of conscious, fall in love with Sirius, yada, yada, yada yada and still save the future of course cos, let's face it, it would be a crap ending if she didn't.

Prologue:

"Shh, Harry it's okay," Hermione soothed her raven haired best friend as he wept heavily into her arms. "It's not your fault there's nothing you could have done."

She continued to stroke his soft unkempt locks as he whined, "oh but Hermione Haven't you heard?" He queried with no small hint of sarcasm, no his voice held a huge amount, a giant standing on Everest with a second giant stacked on top of him huge amount. "I'm the chosen one. Come to save the world from Voldemort. Save all the lives of the poor oppressed wizards that stand against his blood supremacist ideals and bring an end to his reign of darkness. I'm supposed to save them all Hermione and Cedric just died for standing by me, for simply knowing me. I couldn't save him Hermione, I can't save anyone." He spat.

"Harry, it's not your job to save everyone. We're all here to help you. Me, Ron, Sirius Dumbledore, even Snape, the greasy prat that he is." Hermione pokes his sides with each name in an attempt to elicit giggles from the forlorn ticklish teen.

He calms at her prodding teases and his sobs turn to small stray tears that roll onto his best friend and confidant's… no, more than that, his sister's shirt slowly. In a barely audible whisper she hears him, "I couldn't save them."

Hermione sighs knowing exactly which 'them' he was referring to, his parents, "Harry how could you save them?! You were a baby! It was their love that saved you from the dark curse."

"By being born just one day later, a few hours really, so I wasn't the baby in that damned prophecy."

"Harry I know you know you can't control your birthdate!" Hermione exclaims while trying to sooth his nagging, self-deprecating woes. He was being unreasonable, they both knew it, but he had an excuse to be. He had lost so much in his short life.

"Yeah, well the universe seems to think that a birth date can dictate your entire future so excuse my sullenness."

"Oh Harry, I wish I could change it for you. I would gladly take all your pain away if I could, you're my best friend. My brother. I would carry that burden for you and be glad for it. I wish I could save your parents, save you all this suffering. Even if it meant making the hardship my own I would do it just to see you happy." Hermione admits trying to sooth his pain away.

Ron, who had remained silently stoic whilst they sat huddled around Harry's bed in the Hospital wing, his emotions at play only behind hooded eyes in an endeavor to stay strong for the both of them, took this moment to let out a garbled, "same here buddy," clapping Harry on his trembling shoulder.

"But you can't." Harry states in a disturbingly matter-of-fact tone, she hated to think that he had accepted the ever present ache of loss as his only reality. "And I wouldn't wish this feeling on anyone especially not my two best mates."

"Harry I'm so sorry." Hermione cried as she tightens her embrace on him. "I'll do it I'll find a way to make this easier for you no matter what it takes." With that said her own emotions over take her and she dashes from the room, leaving Ron to comfort her brother, her kindred spirt, her Harry.

The second she enters the hall she lets go of the inharmonious sobs she'd been holding in for Harry's benefit. They ravage her body as she slides dejectedly down the wall, cradling her head between her knees and forearms; not even trying to stifle her groans. The tears overwhelm her as she leans her head back to pound it dismally against the stone walls of the castle, her castle. Hogwarts had always been home, but it couldn't keep her safe. Couldn't keep Ron safe. Couldn't keep Harry safe. Not anymore. War was coming and no one was safe now, not a Muggle born witch and certainly not Harry flipping Potter, the 'Chosen One', the 'Boy Who Lived'.

But Merlin how she wanted to keep Harry safe, protect him from all this, he'd been through entirely too much already. She'd meant what she said earlier, she would do whatever it took to ease away his pain, but she didn't know what that was at the moment. And she didn't have the time to figure it out right then, she had a war to prepare for and a Dark Lord to defeat.

Hermione releases a resigned sigh as she stares at the flickering flame of a wall scone; not a second thought is spared for the shadow of a rat that passes beneath as she lets her powerful emotions lull her into a fitful sleep on the cold, hard palace floor.

~o~O~o~

(3 years later, the summer of the horcrux hunt)

Hermione fights the scream of anguish as Bellatrix carves the final 'd' of 'Mudblood' into the otherwise unblemished skin of her forearm. She refused to give the psycho bitch the satisfaction of knowing how much pain she'd caused her. After the seventh prolonged "Crucio!" Hermione's determination not to scream was fading fast as pure agony coursed through her tiny, writhing body. Her lungs burned with the illusion of drowning, her head throbbed with pressure as it threatened to explode, all her nails were peeled back from her finger, a million tiny daggers plunged into her, her skin was cut away from her body in great chunks, all these miseries and millions so much worse were the torturous sensations she felt while under the Cruciatus Curse.

Denying Bellabitch the satisfaction didn't matter anymore, all that kept her from shouting out was her resolve that Harry and Ron wouldn't hear, couldn't hear. They would blame themselves, especially Harry; he had this whole world on his shoulders hero complex that was really starting to piss her off. If they knew what she was going through they would never forgive themselves and she couldn't allow that.

The crazed witch was getting pissed at Hermione's silence, "Where the fuck did you get the sword?" she demanded, indicating the sword of Gryffindor.

"I told you," Hermione barely managed to whisper, "the sword is fake." Earlier her tone would've seethed with anger, now she was weak and hoarse, all her strength long gone as her body was failing her. Oh how she longed for the ability to spit in the bitches face as she'd done previously, it had earned even more vigorous torture but the contented satisfaction had been well worth it.

After the ninth Crucio was lifted to no avail Bellatrix had had enough, "that's it we're getting nowhere. It's not even fun when you don't scream Mudblood. I can't be expected to… question… Mudblood filth if I don't even get a little something out of it! I suppose I should give the mutt Greyback a turn, he seems pretty taken with you, keeps begging for a better taste of the sweet, sweet Mudblood. I'd say he's quite smitten, fitting really two… creatures… with tainted blood, one a monster the other a filthy magic stealer." Bellatrix sneers at her prone form, clothes ripped from the torture exposed bits of her skin; she would've shivered at feel of the cool, stale air of the manor against her flesh and the memory- Fenir Greybeck licked the sweat from her neck and forced his lips upon hers as he tied her into the line of prisoners, 'I look forward to getting a better taste of you later pretty Mudblood'- if her body weren't paralyzed by the residual pain of torture.

She wanted to say yes I'm sure the big bad wolf is far more frightening then good ole Voldy's slag; she knew Bellabitch prided herself on the fact that her insanity stuck fear into the soul of those far greater then Hermione so that would surely strike a nerve. But alas Hermione lacked the fortitude to so much as open her mouth, so the crazy witch, with hair just as insane as her state of mind let lose a manic cackle as she strutted nonchalantly out the door.

"Pettigrew," she hears the older witch shout down into the dungeon where Harry and Ron sat, waiting for Hermione, "come up here and watch our… guest… in the entrance hall while I go fetch myself a wolf." The witch cackles again at her play on words and Hermione sees her sauntering pleased down the hall as Wormtail enters the room.

She immediately notices that he's paranoid, more so then usual, as his eyes dart quickly around the room, looking for threats. But who? She wonders, as her own eyes slowly swivel about; she is unable to so much as lift her cheek off the frigid marble ground, let alone turn her head to get a true look around, that being said however she was still fairly certain they were the only two in the room, and she certainly didn't pose much threat in her dilapidated state. Besides, who did he have to fear? Malfoy manor was a safe haven for Death Eaters, no one could get in but Voldemort's soulless minions, that unfortunate truth had Hermione numbly aware of the fact that she was as good as dead. So why was Peter so afraid?

Sure Wormtail was a coward but certainly even he wouldn't be this terrified of a petit witch, barely even of age. His twitchy behavior was downright suspicious, even if he was more rat then man at this point after being in animagus form for so long. Hermione's wonderments were quickly dashed away as the aftershocks of the Crucios raged through her vulnerable form and she squeezed her eyes shut, she couldn't bring herself to care about the rat's curious behavior as she fought through the blinding agony. She was exhausted, death would be welcomed at this point, thus she had no motivation to concern herself with the puzzling behavior of the traitorous ex-marauder.

Then he asked something that peeked her interest enough for her painfully tear open her clamped eyelids, honey brown meet beady black as he asked, "You really meant it, didn't you?" When her eyes widened the minute amount she could manage in question he elaborates, "When you said you said you would do anything to spare Harry further pain, you truly meant it. Right?" he clarified. "That's why you didn't scream when Bella clearly tortured you," he said indicating her body, "to spare him the guilt of knowing what was happening." It was a statement not a question and all she could do was glare in response, her vocal cords rebelling against her as they refused to cooperate and give a response.

The glare said something along the lines of 'of course I meant you idiot, Harry's my brother, my best friend. How dare you even think to question that?!'

The rat, in all his stupidity, still seemed to get the silent message of her death stare. "You're right I'm sorry," he gestured to her body, specifically to the racist slur on her arm, 'Mudblood'. "This indicates the answer is a clear and resounding yes." He continues as he begins to pace the floor in a brooding silence.

He speaks again a few moments later, "you can do it, save him from a life of pain." He informs as he takes a step towards her, "but you'll have to do as you swore you would at his bedside that night. You have to take on the misery of his losses all on your own."

Hermione would've gasped at the realization if she could, he knew! He was in the Hospital wing the night Cedric died. But she was confused, why would a sniveling, cowardice Death Eater risk his hide to tell her how to help Harry? And what did he mean she would have to feel the 'misery of his losses'?

The answers to the burning questions she was physically unable to ask came soon enough, "that's how I choose you, you know. Because you said you'd do anything for him. I knew if anyone could understand the necessity of the pain I have to put you through on this mission it would be you. Your love for Harry makes sure you understand," he explained as he held a Time-Turner up by its glistening silver chain. Her eyes widened in shocked understanding as he began turning it back repeatedly.

"I have to send you back," he says shortly, as if it were a simple truth not the end of Hermione's life as she knew it. "Send you back to where it all began, 1979, the height of the war, so you can save everyone and stop my betrayal. I know you won't do it for me, that's why I'm not asking for me. I'm asking for Harry."

She wanted to spit at him, don't you dare say his name! But all she managed was an incredulous 'duh-' sound.

"I'm not asking you to spare me, I know you must kill me, but please save James and Lily. And my mother to. I beg of. She was innocent in all of this, the Dark Lord threatened me with her life, that's why I gave up their location. Please protect her, keep her from his clutches, a dying man's last wish as you put the wand to my head." The rat animagus sniffled a humorless laugh as he stared with bleary eyes at the floor

"Do you know what he said to me as I watched the Dark Lord kill him?" he asks rhetorically some time later as his tears pool over at the memory of James' death. "He said to me, 'I forgive you Pete'. Simple as that as he breathed his last and I moved on to see Lily die and the Dark Lord vanish, not even trying to help her and honor one of my best friends' memory. A best friend who forgave me in the face of my ultimate betrayal." He groans before going on, "Then I went on and let Sirius go to Azkaban for what I did, another of my best friends betrayed and now he's gone to because of me. I'm the worst kind of scum, the cowardice Gryffindor. I'm no lion. I'm not even a snake. I'm a rat. That's why I'm asking you to kill me, kill me before I kill them and so many others."

She looks up at him wide eyes pleading what her lips cannot, 'no! Don't take me from them! From all that I know! All that I love! Harry and Ron are all I have left, they need me! I need them!' She'd already lost her parents, she was oliviated from their lives by the work of her own wand, she didn't have much left to lose and here he was taking it all from her anyway.

But he refuses to look into her eyes as he slowly approaches her, "I'm sorry to have to do this to you Miss Granger," he confesses as he inches closer still, silver Time-Turner outstretched in trembling hands. "But the loss of your life as it is now is a necessary evil if the result is a You-Know-Who free future, don't you think? Think of it Miss Granger, you can end him before the second war even begins. The brightest witch in several generations surely possesses the prowess to do so."

He gives her an apologetic smile in an attempt to placate her as she sputters incoherently on the floor, Merlin's moldy toe rag she hated not being able to speak. She manages to stutter out a feeble, "P- p- please," as he takes the final step towards her.

"I'm sorry Miss Granger," he repeats as he begins to slip the silver chain that has now come to symbolize her doom over her defenseless neck. Silver linings definitely aren't a good thing, she thinks as her eyes plead to him in a frenzied panic, the thin silver lining he was putting around her neck led to the end of this life; she would never again 'look for the silver lining' in a situation as her mother and Muggle proverbs recommended. They were, silver linings were, the end, not the beginning, not the good in the bad, or light in the dark. They were gloom and death and loss. "Think of all the lives you'll save, your sacrifice is not in vain Miss Granger," He tries to reassure her with a pitying look. She hated pity, especially from him, but even she pitied herself at this point.

'My sacrifice?! This should be yours to make' her eyes demand. But admittedly she knows he lacks the knowledge and skill to do what he's asking of her and he must to.

"I'm sorry Miss Granger," he reiterates with a pleading look that begs for the forgiveness she will never give, no matter how pure the motivation he has in doing this to her. Then he lets go of the Time-Turner and she's falling, back, back, back as it nestles between her breasts to rest over her heart.

Hermione lands with a thud on the dirt floor of a shack. She can't even look around, still immobilized by the after effects of her very recent torture and the disorienting symptoms of time travel. She moans as she sees the flashes of magical duels around her, taking small victory at the fact that she managed to produce sound from her stubborn throat. "H- hello." She gets out in mere whisper as the flashes die away and dark robed, silver masked figures retreat in puffs of billowing black smoke.

Eventually someone, two someones really, approaches her, wide brown eyes obscured by shaggy red fringe as the drink in her dreadful state. Stocky red haired twins with brown eyes, she thinks in relief "Fred! George!" She whimpers in an exclamation of joy, Peter Pettigrew had failed to send her back in time!

Eyes widened further at her in confusion, who were Fred and George? The two men wondered, surely she didn't mean their new born nephews? Yes that's impossible, they shrugged that theory off as they observed the mysterious women before them, her tattered clothes and wild honey eyes telling quite a story. Wait did her arm say Mudblood?!

Hermione opened her mouth to tell the twins that she was okay, that they need to go rescue Harry and Ron but all she got out was, "H- Harry-" before the events of the day caught up with her and she passed out with an agonized pant on the rough ground. Yes, little did she know she was in for a rude awakening whenever she recovered from her current crucioed hell.

The twins turned to each other as one asked the other, "Who the fuck are Fred and George?"

The other shrugs in acknowledgement of his ignorance on the matter. "Who the fuck is Harry?"

The latter's lookalike shakes his head in a signification of 'I have no bloody clue mate.'

"Who the fuck is she?" They wondered in unison, both sets of curious eyes returning to the petit girl in question.

AN: Hi everyone, so I love Sirius and Hermione and all SBHG fics but I have yet to find one that fits what I have in my mind perfectly so I have decided to write it, yay! Hopefully you like it and don't ignore it because the monotony of it being another Time-Turner fic it will be different from the rest I swear. Drop a review for me please, we fan fiction writers really like those. =)

Wub,

3lw