Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the books' characters! Wish I did though, I'd never have killed Sirius!!! (*bursts into tears*)

Summary: Hermione is just finishing her fifth year. Something happens - she goes back in time, back to when the Marauders were in their seventh year. And Hermione is faced with grief that she thought she had buried. Will she have the heart to find a way to go back to her own time?

[Just a fic I thought of after reading 'Order of the Phoenix']

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"Hurry up, Hermione!" Harry bellowed over his shoulder as he raced up the stairs. "You know Snape will kill us if we're late for this lesson!"

Strange, how almost normal Harry was beginning to sound after everything they had been through so recently.

"Go on," she called, desperately trying to pick up the books that Peeves had knocked out of her arms. "I'll catch up!"

But then again, even she was putting the past behind her, trying to suppress every insane feeling that kept rising within her - every shred of grief, love, regret, hurt -

No, she had to bury it. And she had. He had never existed.

Soon, Harry and Ron's footsteps had faded away and Hermione had finally picked up all the books, one wary eye scanning her surroundings for any sign of the wretched poltergeist. The books were all her fifth year ones, and she was taking them to drop off at Professor McGonagall's on her way to Potions.

Unfortunately, there didn't seem to be time.

She ran up the stairs as fast as a person can with a pile of textbooks in her arms, and was halfway down the corridor when she thought she reached the Potions classroom. Little did she know that the stairs had shifted around while her vision had been blocked by books . . .

Using her elbow, she nudged the door open and burst into the room, startled when the door closed behind her with a slam. Suddenly, everything became to vibrate and her eyes began to blur over with the spinning of the room. Knocked off balance, she fell over, books tumbling out of her arms.

And then it stopped.

"Good heavens, dear, are you all right?"

Slowly, Hermione blinked the dizziness out of her eyes and mind and looked up. The books were still lying in a pile around her. She was still on her knees on the floor - but somehow, she was in the Entrance Hall, staring up into the face of Professor McGonagall.

But something seemed to be wrong. The face she was looking into seemed much younger!

"P-professor McGonagall?" she stammered, jaw dropping.

The older woman seemed surprised. "Why, I don't believe we've been introduced, dear, but if you know who I am, then you must be the new fifth- year transfer student that Professor Dumbledore was telling me about."

Hermione blinked. What is hell was going on? Why didn't McGonagall recognize her?

"I - yes, I am," she said, her sharp mind quickly articulating an answer for her. "Hermione - uh - Lovegood." She murmured.

"Of course," Professor McGonagall smiled. "Well, I'm sure you'll be very happy with us here, Ms Lovegood, and I hope you find the right house during the Sorting that Dumbledore will arrange for you in about ten minutes. Why don't I take these books," she waved her wand and the books lifted themselves up and dropped neatly into the backpack that she conjured up magically. "And I'll take you into the Great Hall in a few minutes."

While her professor turned around to speak to a couple of students who were just passing by and were making an unnecessary amount of noise, Hermione, still very confused and slightly scared, wondered what she had done to herself. She checked to make sure her wand was still in her robes pocket, and was glad to find it was.

"Oh, Snape." The words suddenly jolted Hermione back to looking at Professor McGonagall. "Take this bag, will you," she said sharply to the greasy-haired Slytherin, "And leave it outside my office for Ms Lovegood here."

It seemed unreal for Hermione to watch a very young, seventeen-year-old Snape taking orders from the woman he was supposed to be working with, although he looked sour at the thought of carrying the books of some random new girl - despite how pretty she might be.

The implications of seeing Snape and Professor McGonagall so young had not fully sunk into Hermione yet. Instead, rather shakily, she asked the Professor when Snape was safely out of earshot:

"What year is this, Professor?"

McGonagall looked astonished, and Hermione sighed inwardly. But she needed to know - and when her professor told her the year, Hermione's entire mind whirled. Somehow, she had traveled back in time SEVENTEEN years, and was now standing in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, about to be Sorted and repeat her fifth year!

-Dear God, - she thought dazedly. -How did I manage this? How do I go back?-

Unfortunately, she couldn't dwell on that problem, because she was being ushered into the Great Hall by the woman who was supposed to be the Head of her House - and might just become so again.

The Great Hall was filled with delighted chatter and laughter, reminding Hermione so forcefully of her own time and Harry, and Ron, that she felt slightly homesick. She ignored it, however, because the sea of unfamiliar faces was staring at her now, suddenly falling silent.

Dumbledore, looking rather the same, stood up and looked at Hermione. For an instant, she felt like his kindly gaze had bored right through her, and that he knew exactly what had happened to her, and who she was.

But he said nothing about it, only smiled and said to the school:

"I have the pleasure to welcome a new transfer student into our midst," he said, smiling broadly. "She will be joining the fifth-year, of whichever house the Hat chooses is best for her, and I trust you will all make her feel at home."

There were some cheers and catcalls that made Hermione reflect on how little Hogwarts really had changed. She noticed that all the students, including the Slytherins, were peering at her with great interest - probably because she looked smart, she thought wryly.

"And now, we shall have the Sorting for her. Minerva, if you would."

Professor McGonagall led Hermione forward towards the platform, where she produced the tattered old Sorting Hat out of nowhere and laid it on the familiar old stool. Hermione gulped for a second - what if somehow, she was put into Slytherin?

"Lovegood, Hermione!" McGonagall announced.

Hermione obligingly went forward and rather nervously sat down on the stool, gazing out at the faces at the tables, barely even noticing any of them. Professor McGonagall put the Hat onto her head and stepped back.

She braced herself.

"Ahh, my, my what have we here?" the Hat cooed in its gruff voice, sounding highly interested. "Extremely smart, I can see, one of those top-graders - Ravenclaw might suit you. But wait, I see plenty of courage too, and oh my - what do I see in these memories of yours? Things I have never seen before, very dark, very incredible things - you've been knocked back in time, haven't you? Well, well, where shall I put you? Your old house was . . . hmm, Gryffindor, very nice . . . well, well - GRYFFINDOR!"

Her heart nearly exploding over her head with relief and delight, Hermione staggered up from the stool and met the eyes of a smiling Dumbledore and then those of a very pleased-looking McGonagall. The Gryffindors were all cheering wildly, and as she approached their table, one of the girl, a redhead seventh-year called out: "Over here, Hermione!"

She slowly went over to the empty seat beside the girl, and found herself looking into green eyes that she had seen before - green eyes that she knew far too well.

"My God," she whispered inaudibly, sinking into the bench weakly.

Lily Potter?!

But that had to mean - of course she was - that meant she was -

On the other side of her, a boy with a kind face smiled welcomingly at her. "I'm Remus Lupin," he said, extending his hand. "Lily Evans," he introduced the girl, although Hermione was already recognizing people.

"James Potter," a boy with untidy black hair smiled, before shifting his gaze back to Lily. Hermione gawked at him, and almost exclaimed: 'you look exactly like Harry, only he has her eyes'.

"Peter Pettigrew," a small, mousy-looking boy added, looking her up and down her with watery eyes.

It took all of Hermione's self-control to keep from glaring at the boy. She knew perfectly well who he was, knew exactly what he was doing -

Finally her eyes reached the last boy of the group. He was extremely handsome, with short dark hair, melting chocolate eyes and a body that had made Ron greatly envious even in her own time.

Strange, she thought detachedly, pain filling her chest, how innocent these people were of their own futures.

For there they were - dead, hunted werewolf, dead, traitor . . . dead.

Like a cold shower of ice mixing with hot fiery hope, Hermione looked into the eyes of a man she had been told had fallen through a mysterious veil, the same man she had hidden her true feelings so well for, the man she had been sure she could never see again.

"Sirius Black," he said with a grin.

** To Be Continued.

** A/N: Hope you guys like this so far . . . please review and let me know if you want this continued, I just had to get it out - because, after all, Joanne never does tell us how Hermione felt when Sirius died . . .