Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter-never have, never will- and though that fact keeps me up at night, I shall carry on. This is fan fiction, and I'm making no money.
A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews guys! I always thought that FF writers were being silly when they said reviews make you want to update, but they weren't. This will hopefully answer some questions as to what the devil is going on.
The world seemed to throw itself into a bizarre combination of rewind and fast forward. Everything shifted and blurred jerking back and forth.
The only constant was the parchment in Hermione's right hand. For a fraction of a second, the world stilled and she was in a stationary shop, clutching the map. She barely noticed that it was crisp and new before she was thrown again, and more violently, into a blurry and jerking setting. All the while, Hermione clung onto the parchment.
For the space of a blink, Hermione was in Filch's office, and two twelve year old Weasley twins held the parchment with her. But before she could register the scene it was gone.
When the world stilled for a third time, Hermione concentrated on staying still. And not vomiting.
But mostly on staying still.
Her eyes were shut tight in her effort. Once she was sure that she wasn't going anywhere, Hermione cracked an eye open. She was in what she immediately recognized as the 7th year boy's dormitory.
She hadn't been in there yet this year, but it couldn't have been anywhere else. On the wall next to one of the beds was a flashy poster of a woman winking at her that confirmed it. Dean had always had a weakness for muggle posters, though it was interesting to note that he'd upgraded from football subject matter to something saucier.
After a quick inventory of her surroundings, Hermione's attention was brought to the fact that she was wedged up to the elbow underneath Harry's mattress. She carefully extracted her arm still holding the map and flopped onto Harry's bed. Usually her time-spasms weren't that dramatic.
Ever since her third-year experience with the time turner, Hermione had been subject to side effects. It was part of the package that she'd agreed to when she was thirteen. But then, how many good decisions do most thirteen-year-old girls really make? Of course, she wouldn't trade her decision for the world. She had gotten to play hero and save Sirius Black and Buckbeak after all. But the occasional time twitch will grate on anyone's nerves.
Usually the twitch would only be a few minutes or hours backward and forward. The theory behind it being that the time turner stretches one's personal timeline around like a rubber band. Prolonged use of the time turner would make one's personal line a little extra-stretchy is all, and just like with a rubber band, Hermione's timeline would always snap back to when she left give or take a minute. The time twitches were only really a nuisance for five years after the time-turner usage, and Hermione was counting the days until she could shrug off this particular side effect for good.
It had been awhile since Hermione had twitched, the last time was during breakfast 6th year. She had taken hold of her pumpkin juice glass and been twitched back and forth from Gryffindor Table, to the kitchens. To anyone who hadn't known what was going on, it would've looked like a trick of the eye or an ill-timed blink. It had, of course, been impossible to keep hold of the liquid in her cup during her initial time-spasm and she arrived back at Gryffindor table covered in juice.
But this was the first time she'd jumped back in a space of years (for that was the only explanation she could come up with for the stationary store and the miniature Fred and George she'd glimpsed) and she was a little rattled. Her body hummed with magic and left her bones feeling a little jangled. After a few deep breaths she remembered where she was meant to be.
Luckily, she was already in the boys' dorm so all she had to do was stow the Marauder's Map in Harry's bedside table and she could run off to breakfast. She rolled over, opened the drawer or Harry's nightstand and shoved some quills and a book out of the way. By putting the map in and arranging things over it looked as if it had been carelessly buried in the junk.
Satisfied with a job well done, Hermione straightened and made her way downstairs. The common room was empty except for one of the new first years who was on his way out.
"Wait!" she called to him. He stopped and looked around, as though expecting to be in trouble. He seemed so tiny that for a moment Hermione felt a pang of nostalgia for her first year. She was tempted to bend down to talk to him, but knew that would come off entirely too condescending. Instead she just kept a bit of distance so she could look in his eyes without looking down on him.
"I have a question for you." She stated. The boy visibly relaxed knowing he wasn't about to be punished.
"What's the date?" Hermione knew it was an odd thing to check, but it was better safe than sorry. The boy looked at her as though she was crazy, but didn't voice that particular opinion.
"September 22nd." Said the boy after a moment's thought.
'Alright,' thought Hermione, 'that's normal, so now's all that's left is to determine the time.'
"Are you running late for class?" Hermione inquired.
"No," the kid had clearly gotten over his fear and had now affected a snotty tone. "I'm running late for breakfast. Do you mind?"
If her stomach hadn't growled at the mention of breakfast, Hermione would've lectured him on manners. As it was, she waited for him to leave the portrait hole and made her way to the Great Hall with a series of short cuts that skimmed several minutes off her travel time- thus beating him to the food.
As she was about to step into the Great Hall, Hermione took a moment to straighten her tie, smooth her skirt, and catch her breath before walking into the room. Her eyes bounced from table to table before fixing on Harry's messy black hair and truly abominable posture. She made a beeline for him and was pleased to see he'd saved her a seat.
She delivered her customary greeting to Harry by ruffling his already messy hair and sat down beside him.
"Hi Harry, sorry I'm late, did you save me some toast or did Ron eat it all?" She grabbed an apple and, eyes seeking the toast barely noticed that someone had come up behind her until a very real, very masculine voice sounded from above.
"Prongs, why is there some girl in my spot?" This question barely registered with Hermione, her mind already whirring on what she'd be doing in class that day, but she responded nevertheless.
"Prongs? Harry, since when-" At this point she looked up from her plate to the person who was sitting across from her. Staring.
It definitely wasn't Ron Weasley.
He was tall, even sitting down, and quite lean. His eyes were bright blue and his hair was a pleasant mix of blonde and brown. He had bags under his eyes that mirrored Hermione's and he was looking at her with unabashed confusion. She knew that face. She'd seen it over and over for the past four years; first in classes, then in Order meetings, and now sitting across from her in the Great Hall minus a couple laugh lines and one or two scars.
Slowly, she turned to look at Harry beside her. He too was staring at her. But up close, it could not be more obvious that she was not looking at Harry. The resemblance was uncanny, but his eyes were hazel, not green. He didn't have a great gash mark in his forehead (from what she could see through his bangs). His glasses were oblong, not round like Harry's. His jaw was slightly squarer and his face differed from Harry's in a hundred tiny ways that all hit Hermione like truck.
In a very undignified manner Hermione scrambled away from the man she was now sure was James Potter.
"No!" She couldn't help but squeak as she gracelessly removed herself from the bench. She repeated that word like a mantra as she tripped back into the man whose voice she'd heard moments before. She jumped away from him as if he were covered with poison and got a good look at the seventeen year old Sirius Black.
He was handsome, none could deny it. His hair was glossy and black, his build tall and broad. His face was smoother than any teenager's had any right to be and had strong, straight features. He looked like someone had ordered him custom-made out of a catalog, putting all the best physical attributes of a man on one person. But the most attractive thing about him was what he was displaying at that moment: his laugh. It was almost a bark and it made his normally handsome face jump to life with warmth.
Not that this was any great comfort to Hermione. She shut her eyes tight, hoping against hope that she'd flicker out of this place, but when she opened her eyes, she was greeted with the sight of the marauders, and most of Gryffindor table, staring at her.
It is a testament to Hermione's character and constitution that she didn't run screaming from the room. Instead, she took a few very deep breaths and turned resolutely to the teachers' table. After a quick scan, Hermione found her target and marched up to the center of the table.
"Professor Dumbledore, we really need to talk."
A/N: And now- Questions? Comments? Suggestions? Love it? Hate it? Review!