Summary: Hermione goes back to the Final Battle to save the one person who she believes shouldn't have been allowed to die, even knowing that she'll be ripping herself from every other timeline. AU from beginning of epilogue on.

Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own these characters. The epilogue wouldn't have been in Book 7 if I did. Also, chunks and bits of this chapter's dialogue was taken from the book and/or film, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

A/N: I chose to use the film's version rather than the book's for Severus Snape's death scene. I thought the layout was much better (and made more sense, ask and I'll tell you why). Also the dialogue. With of course the amazing delivery by Alan Rickman.


I'll Give You All My Futures

Chapter 7: Behind Enemy Lines

"Voldemort himself created his worst enemy, just as tyrants everywhere do! Have you any idea how much tyrants fear the people they oppress? All of them realize that, one day, amongst many victims, there is sure to be one who rises against them and strikes back!" – Albus Dumbledore

April-May, 1998

Clinging tightly now to the tree, Hermione let herself take in her surroundings. In her mind, she began cataloging all of the things that would have to happen in the last two weeks of April before the final battle. She wasn't ready for this. Her breathing was accelerated and her heart was pounding. Merlin, did she not want to be here. But this was the only place that she knew would keep her safe from crossing paths with anyone and have unintended consequences. She knew that she was high enough not to be easily seen from the woods, and she had taken extra precautions when she had borrowed one of the few invisibility cloaks held by the Auror office.

She had dissected it completely at her flat, but the magic would have taken her too long to replicate on her own so she had just nicked one. In a sense anyway. Chances were, it would be back before it was missed. She had just replaced it with a cloak that was the same with traces of invisibility, so that it would simply appear as though the cloak had simply faded. The magic of the one she had would start fading by the end of June anyway, but she hoped to not need it by then.

As she tried to not move for as long as possible, letting her gaze skim over the grounds, she let out the breath she hadn't known she was holding. No one. Not yet anyway. Her other self would still be in Shell Cottage. Their trio would still be recovering from Dobby's death and from her…Biting her lip, she cradled her arm with scars well healed. The pain had healed, but she wore long sleeves now. That bitch had known it would scar. As with many dark wounds, no magic could remove it.

Two weeks. More specifically, twelve days. Where could she hide for that long? She knew that she had to be by the boathouse in time. She would hopefully spend her last day there, spelling and warding her little corner so that the most evil wizard of her time and his would be able to walk right past her and not notice a thing.

Huddling in her cloak, Hermione tried to focus. She had come back too early, she hadn't looked for a safe place now during this time. She had hoped to go right to the boathouse. Looking towards the castle, she tried to figure a way into the grounds. The Room of Requirement could hide her as a student until it was time. Most of the DA would be living there by now as it was. The Village was crawling with patrols. She didn't want to risk traveling too far away. So, it was either hide in the trees for a week or the castle. Hogwarts it was. But how? How to get in to Hogwarts that was now crawling with Death Eaters? And would she risk messing with time further? Maybe she could just stay in the forest? A rustling came from beneath her. Sucking in her breath, Hermione flicked her wand over herself quickly, barely doing it in time.

Fenrir Greyback stalked out of the forest beneath her, sniffing the air. Seeing him look up, watching him scan the trees with narrowed eyes, Hermione knew that he had caught her scent before. The spell to conceal her scent had saved her. For now. It would wear off soon. She tried not to breathe as he stalked closer to the castle. Harry had the map. Damn the Marauders for their amazing magic. She didn't have to worry about that yet though. That was later. And if she got into the Room of Requirement, she wouldn't have to worry about it seeing her there.

Shivering, she knew she couldn't stay here. The Shrieking Shack would get her in through the Whomping Willow. The cloak would get her around inside. She could do it. It really was the only place that she knew she could be safe. Hermione let out an almost inaudible snort. Safe. With Death Eaters crawling all over the place, Dementors flying around at Voldemort's beck and call, and soon Voldemort himself would make his big entrance. How could she possibly be thinking of doing this? And for Snape? Her brains were addled. Completely addled.

Making her way to the Shrieking Shack was easier than she had thought. There was an almost deafening silence in the forest. It was as if it knew what stalked under its trees, of the war that had begun, and of the Battle that was coming. It was almost scary how easy it was. The Shack still stood on its own, looking like it would fall over at any moment from the outside. Not wanting to waste time, she Appareted in.

Downing the Polyjuice made her gag. Her clothes instantly became too big. She had to cinch her jeans tighter at her waist and push her sleeves up on her arms. Over and over again as she dragged herself down the corridor to the Whomping Willow, she chanted her cover story, over and over. She knew the Neville who was in charge now. The same Neville who would become an Auror with Harry and Ron. Exact. Her cover story had to be good.

By the time she worked her way out from under the Whomping Willow, thanking her lucky stars she remembered where the knot was to freeze it, Hermione pulled herself from the end of the tunnel, quickly checking to see that she was covered. The sun had just set when she had come back in time, so it was almost full dark when she reached the outer walls of Hogwarts castle. No one was on patrol outside the main doors, but she didn't want to risk tripping wards or even opening a door for an invisible person. Hugging the wall, she found herself almost asking the castle.

Please, please, please, I need the Room of Requirement,she thought frantically, hoping that the urgency would somehow help.

Feeling the stones behind her change, a grin lit up Hermione's face. Feeling behind her, she felt a small wooden door. Crouching down, she opened it, making sure to shut it behind her before moving forward. For a second, in the darkness, she panicked. It wasn't a trap. It couldn't be a trap. Hogwarts wouldn't let it be a trap. She couldn't understand how she knew, but it didn't change her body's reaction. Her heart pounded in her ears as she stooped low in the corridor. Finding light at the end of the tunnel, she took a deep breath and embraced her taken identity, praying that her hunch was correct, that she was somewhere in the tunnel leading from Hog's Head.

She took the last of the corridor at a dead run, hitting the door hard as she opened it, falling into the Room of Requirement in a tangled heap of robes, arms and legs. Also, smack into the back of one Neville Longbottom.

The commotion that she caused was loud enough and violent enough that she didn't have to fake being disoriented when the invisibility cloak was thrown off of her. She knew what they saw. A scared twelve year old girl, long black hair in two long braids mussed, scratched, covered in residue from the forest and dirt from the tunnel. She was shorter than Hermione Granger, by at least four inches. She was thinner too, like she hadn't eaten in days. The fact that Hermione's jeans and jumper were at least two sizes too big on her now helped, as well as the fact that she was wearing a black robe that billowed around her feet and fell over and past her hands. The yelling of alarm and questions was stopped as Neville completely righted himself and got to his feet, waving for silence from the panicking students around him.

"Quiet! Quiet down, all of you," he said, turning to face her.

Hermione started shaking, wrapping her arms around herself as she made her chin start to tremble as well, as if she was on the verge of tears. Neville looked at her, really looked.

"Who are you? How did you get here?" he asked finally when silence fell.

"Pe-penelope Gr-grant," Hermione stuttered. "I… My family. I'm Muggle-born, you see. I… they, B-B-Bella. Bellatrix Lestrange and…"

Shaking in earnest now as Hermione channeled the day Bellatrix had flattened her to the floor, knowing that bringing up Bellatrix was a direct play on Neville's emotions, she continued, "My parents… the, um, the O-order didn't get to save them," Hermione saw the Dark Mark over her house, the damage as she'd surveyed the inside and the tears started, "I…"

Shaking, Hermione held up her left arm for Neville to see. Some of the students who had been crowding behind them gasped. Mudblood was still scarred into her arm. Polyjuice, spells, nothing would ever carve it out from her skin after Bellatrix had used magic to seal it there.

Her performance was good enough, because soon she was wrapped in a blanket and sat on one of the couches the Room had given them. Her entire story had convinced them. She told them how she had been taken to the Shack by Remus and given the cloak by the Order to get her safely inside. There was nowhere safe on the outside anymore, and their safehouses were full. She had started crying when she told them about Remus. Even if they wondered where Penelope Grant disappeared to after the battle was won, Remus wouldn't be able to tell them if she had been lying or not. By the time any of them saw Remus he would be…. Hermione shivered again.

"…come on ask her!" an adamant voice demanded.

"No! You remember what happened the last time. We can't afford to take any more chances like that. We're going to have to wait, got it?" Neville snapped back.

"He got caught!" the boy shouted. Hermione recognized the other boy now, Ernie Macmillian. "Michael got tortured because he got caught. A cloak like hers could help, just ask her. You know they've got more of the students strung up somewhere, you know it."

Neville looked thoughtful before he replied, "We'll try then. The more that we rally here the better. I'll ask."

Shivering still in her blanket, though by now Hermione had calmed down enough so that she had to pretend to shake, she watched him approach.

"Hey, Penelope, right?" Neville asked as he knelt in front of her.

Hermione nodded.

"Look, I know things have been bad here, I imagine that your parents didn't want you coming here, did they?" he asked, his voice soft and gentle.

Hermione shook her head violently, "Mum's neighbor was a witch. When she heard about my magic s-s-she told her a-about everything. Our house was a M-muggle target, she said. When they saw I was a w-witch, that's w-when…"

"You're safe now, ok Penny? Can I call you that?" Neville asked.

Hermione nodded again.

"We're going to need to borrow that invisibility cloak you had. Can we do that?" Neville asked, his voice calm and soothing, like how Hermione used to catch him talking to his plants.

Hermione nodded, and just like that, she found herself in the care of Lavender Brown for the remainder of the time, knowing all the while that she would have to leave them, all of them, soon. The DA had marked up a calendar on the far wall. It was surreal, listening to Potterwatch, watching former classmates sometimes stumble back into the room, nursing bruises, broken bones, cuts, and the aftereffects of the Crutacius. Through it all, Hermione had to remain deaf and dumb, wanting so much to help, but not being able to give herself away. She found herself "accidentally" leaving books open to the right page on healing spells and how to better refine her own spell on the coins. It was all she could do and it didn't feel like near enough.

The days dragged on as she tried to help while appearing to be clueless, all the while sneaking sips of Polyjuice to maintain her cover. It wouldn't last much longer, Hermione thought mournfully as she swished the bottle in front of her. But then, it didn't have to anymore. Looking at the calendar, she almost jumped. Shocked, she turned to look at Neville who was limping still from the latest batch of injuries that no one had wasted precious energy to heal yet. How she itched to do it herself. She watched him as he checked the coin in his pocket and the beaming smile split his face. That was her cue, she realized. Not bothering with the last sip of Polyjuice, she skirted round the room trying to locate her cloak as quickly as she could as Neville disappeared down the tunnel towards Aberforth. She finally located it, carefully folded under one of the Gryffindor hammocks. Waiting for the inevitable, she watched as the door swung open again.

"Look who it is! Didn't I tell you?" Neville's voice rang out and seconds later Harry, Ron, and a younger version of herself spilled into the room to shouts and cries all over. Hermione used the noise as a cover as she slipped the cloak over her.

The commotion lasted as she heard Harry's bewildered question of "Where are we?" before she slipped closer to the small cupboard that opened onto a steep staircase. She quickly hurried up it, letting it take her around twists and turns, praying that her knowledge of the castle hadn't degraded over the years. The battle was coming. Adrenaline was already making her legs tremble slightly whenever she paused. She needed the time. Truthfully, she should have been at the boathouse preparing already. Pausing again as she encountered the wall at the end, she paused to draw a wand out of her bag. She needed to be away from where Harry would be when he started looking at the Map. As the wall dissolved at her touch, she stumbled out by the back stairs to the castle. She almost yelled. Clapping a hand over her mouth, she flattened herself against the wall. The Room really had outdone itself that year.

Almost frozen, Hermione found herself actually outside the castle, mist rising up from the lake. Dementors were still swarming over the castle grounds, haunting the world that they had all loved so much. She hated them. As much now as she had then. She watched them swirling. They were meant to keep students, and probably teachers, from leaving as much as keep help from coming. One was floating directly over the boathouse. She cursed. Cursed, cursed, and cursed some more. She would have to wait for the siege to start. Damn Riddle. Damn Snape.

She had already lived through this once. She would have to hear the screams again. The screams that still haunted her dreams. Everyone she couldn't save. Everything that… No. This time, she would save someone. Fisting her hands in the robe she wore, someone had lent her a Ravenclaw's two days ago to throw over her own bigger, charmed one. It helped with filling it out, the body she wore was so skinny. Hermione summoned all her fury. She would need it. It seemed like hours when the voice rang out, echoing everywhere.

"I know that you are preparing to fight. Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you. I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood," the hissing voice rang out even in the darkening night, high, cold, and clear.

"Give me Harry Potter," said Voldemort's voice, "and they shall not be harmed. Give me Harry Potter and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter and you will be rewarded. You have until midnight."

The voice still haunted her nightmares. Shuddering, she felt her body growing, knowing with certainty that she was now her old self again, the school robe now at her knees, the robe underneath only brushing her ankles. It was almost too late. She couldn't wait. She had to move, and move now. The dementors were pulling back, back to the line where she knew Voldemort would be. She ran. He would be there any time now. Run, Hermione, run! she thought frantically, taking the steps two at a time.

The boathouse loomed before her. She saw the boat approaching from the distant shore, knowing by its slow and easy progress who it was. She ran faster.

Once inside, Hermione shuddered. It smelled the same. Strange how scents stayed with you the longest and tied you to memories you would rather forget. Looking at the glass window, her mind replayed the hideous sounds of a body hitting the glass with each strike. Levitating herself into the rafters, she started her spells.

She felt the spells hitting the boathouse as soon as he entered. The battle was starting. The wards would fall. She had to work hard to keep still, keep her breathing steady, when Voldemort entered. His robes hissed on the planks, almost similar to Nagini as she slithered along the boards. In her head, she repeated the steps she would need to take. The window of opportunity was so small. So very, very small. He paced to the window, hissing at Nagini in Parseltongue. The figure that stumbled behind him was almost unrecognizable. Shocked, she realized that the disgusting figure was actually Lucius Malfoy. He had made him row him there. The pride of Malfoy had been made to be little more than a gondolier.

The beaten and bloody, shaking and cowardly figure was nothing like the calm, collected, and contemptible man that she had known before the war and she had never seen him looking so worn. She watched as Voldemort paced to the end of the docks. He was a calm and silent figure looking over the lake. She felt it then, as her legs started to almost cramp in her tight position. The Anti-Apparition wards went down. She watched Lucius take a step forward, towards him and away from her.

"My lord, might it.. be les…uh, might it be more prudent to call off this attack? Simply seek the boy yourself?" Lucius stuttered.

"I do not need to seek the boy," Voldemort hissed, "Before the night is out he will come to me, do you understand!"

Hermione winced, but checked the movement as she held herself impossibly still, though her arms started to tremble. Voldemort stalked towards him, lashing out a quick strike across his face, making Lucius jump and flinch away from him.

"Look at me!" Voldemort hissed, his face a grimace as he looked at his pawn as if he were a speck of dirt under his shoe. "How can you live with yourself, Lucius?"

"I don't know," Lucius replied quickly, holding his breath against Voldemort's barely checked rage and disgust.

"Go and find Severus," Voldemort said, leaning towards him with a hiss, "Bring him to me."

Hermione watched as Lucius practically tripped, stumbling back and away from him. She could practically feel the disgust that Voldemort felt towards him. The rage at such a display of weakness. She hadn't known just how...unhinged Voldemort had become in his last hours. If Lucius's behavior was any indication however, it had gotten as bad, or worse then the accounts she had heard before. It was a miracle that Snape had lasted in those conditions to this point. Dumbledore's murder could have only lasted him to a point.

"You may… Apparate now if you wish…" Voldemort said with open contempt in his voice as he turned away from him.

A shudder ran down Lucius's frame as his hand went inside his robes to the plain wooden wand concealed in his belt before he Disapparated. Shaking, she watched Voldemort stalk back to the edge of the dock and wait. After what seemed like an eternity of Hermione watching Voldemort with Nagini coiled tightly beside him, Snape appeared. Even though she knew what would happen, knew the bloody end, her mind paused for a moment to admire how smoothly he was able to Apparate into the location just below her.

"My Lord," Severus said, keeping himself in a low bow to the other man's back. "You sent for me."

"Tell me Severus," Voldemort said, his voice careful, controlled, but he did not elaborate.

"The wards have fallen. Many of Potter's friends have already fallen my Lord, their resistance is crumbling;"

"-and it is doing so without your help," said Voldemort in his high, clear voice. "Skilled wizard that you are, Severus, I do not think you will make much difference now. We are almost there….almost."

"Then let me find the boy. Let me bring you Potter. I know I can find him, my Lord," Snape said.

"I…" Voldemort cut off his words. "I have a problem, Severus."

"My Lord?" Snape asked.

Voldemort rolled the wand in his hands as he turned to face the other man. He held the Elder Wand out, delicately, deliberately. "Why does it not work for me, Severus?"

"My-my Lord?" said Snape blankly. Hermione could see the signs now. The master Occlumens building layers in his mind to try to deliberately conceal what he now must have guessed. Voldemort slowly began walking towards him.

"I do not understand. You have performed extraordinary magic with this wand my Lord, in the last few hours alone," Snape affirmed, carefully standing as still as possible.

"No," Voldemort said, "No. I am extraordinary, but the wand… resists me."

"There is no wand more powerful," Snape said carefully. "Ollivander himself has said it."

Hermione's eyes flicked to the windows behind Snape. She knew, balanced precariously though she was, that Harry, Ron, and her younger self were now back behind the glass.

"Tonight, when the boy comes, it will not fail you, I'm sure of it," Snape said, deliberately, cautiously as Voldemort came ever closer to him. "It answers to you. And you only."

Hermione gripped her wand under her robes. The school robe that had been given to her was now slightly small on her, tighter over the thinner, charmed robe that she had come back with. She almost didn't dare to breathe as she watched Voldemort's face constrict, the eyes narrow, and the nose slits flare. How Snape could actually face that man, with those features, using words to reassure him, as a mother would a child, Hermione couldn't guess. And he had done it countless times. For years.

"Does it?" Voldemort replied.

"My Lord?" Snape said.

"The wand, does it truly answer to me?" Voldemort asked as he stalked around Snape, his eyes locked on the other man's face. "You're a clever man, Severus, surely you must know. Where does its true loyalty lie?"

"With you, of course, my Lord," Snape said.

"The Elder Wand cannot serve me properly because I am not its true master. The Elder Wand belongs to the wizard who killed its last owner," Voldemort said, moving now back into range of Hermione's sight, wand extended, "You killed Dumbledore, Severus."

In her position, she watched Snape's face, the blank mask cracked for a second and if she had blinked she would have missed it. Voldemort continued moving forward, "While you live, the Elder Wand cannot truly be mine. You've been a good and faithful servant, Severus, but only I can live. Forever."

"My Lord," Snape began, before Voldemort sliced at him, the first bloody cut appearing on his neck.

Hermione forced herself not to blink. Forced herself to watch, to watch with the detachment of a casual observer. Of a Healer, as she catalogued every injury as it was inflicted. She watched as Snape collapsed back against the window, flinching as the sound seemed to reverberate in the watery room. Shaking, she watched as the snake neared him. He was dead, she saw that he realized it in his eyes. There was no more mask. His heart still beat, but he was a dead man and he knew it.

"Nagini, kill," came the order.

She watched as the snake reared back and struck, first his neck, then shoulder, side, and arm, as the snake held on that last, thrashing as Snape did, hardly even bothering with trying to defend himself. Almost as if she was as vindictive as her master, Nagini reared back and struck him once more on his leg as well. Slithering back to her master, they Disapparated. Snape's breaths came wet, thickly, as he choked. Hermione bit down hard on her left hand to not cry out.

Then the door opened, as Harry, Ron, and her younger self walked in. Hermione watched as Harry dropped his wand, falling to his knees beside him. Knowing what she knew now, knowing how Harry had felt, how only moment ago all three had still thought him a traitor, she had never admired Harry more as he knelt, pressing his hand to the wounds on Snape's neck.

Hermione watched as Snape's eyes searched his face, searching, searching, even as she knew he was concentrating on the memories that now flowed from the tear down his cheek. He still seemed shocked that Harry was there, that anyone was there. Yet til the end, he was desperate to do his duty.

"Take them," he gasped out, gesturing weakly to his own face, "Take them. Please."

"Give me something, quickly, a flask, anything," Harry frantically said gesturing behind him.

Hermione watched as she conjured the flask from her bag to hand to him. Harry pressed his hands back to Snape's neck as he collected the memories. She could hardly see, barely hear.

"Take them to the Pensieve," Snape said weakly, almost as he tried to smile. "You have your mother's eyes."

He choked on the last words. Careful Hermione,she chanted in her head, waiting for Snape to turn away, she let her hand form the complicated sigil of the spell.

"Immstatis Mortis," she whispered.

The spell found its target as Snape collapsed backwards and moved no more.