A/N: My goodness, sorry about the wait on this one. Things got really busy for a hot minute on my server and in life.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, I don't make money from this fic.
January 24, 1978 Hogwarts, Scotland - Room of Requirement
Hermione sat in the middle of the open room on a cushion in the floor. She'd been trying different meditation techniques and Seeing techniques that she'd read up on, and she just couldn't figure it out. She had to work on this when she knew she wouldn't be interrupted by Sirius and the boys, and she couldn't have Lily finding out either. So she waited until Lily was asleep and snuck out of her dorm each month on the night of the full moon, going to the one place she knew no one else would find her.
She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. She was distracting herself from what she needed to do, and she knew she didn't have much time. There was a candle in front of her and she focused her attention on that.
"Okay," She murmured to herself, taking a deep breath. "It'll work this time. It has to."
She dropped her gaze to the flame flickering atop the candle in front of her. She'd read about scrying using reflective surfaces, a pool of water, a mirror, a crystal ball, but none of that seemed right to Hermione. She read up on other scrying techniques, and had tried out several earlier in the school year, all to little or no avail. But she hadn't tried flame. For whatever reason, she'd dismissed it as impractical. It wasn't until she'd read in depth about pyromancy that she realized the focus required to perform it could actually benefit her in her efforts.
She exhaled slowly, gazing into the flame and clearing her mind of all but the flame. She adopted the breathing pattern she'd learned to use when meditating, and relaxed. When she felt at ease, she peeled away the thin barriers holding back the visions. The first barrier had broken when she was sent into the coma. This new barrier was one she took down nightly, allowing all the visions and dreams that make come to her to flow freely. Unfortunately, of late, they'd all been Muggle killings and shadowy meetings of no real note. She'd get a glimpse of an Order meeting, or some event her friends were planning, too, and that served to confuse her. How were the visions organized? Why was she seeing these things? She pondered these questions as she removed the barrier and let the visions flood her vision.
Perhaps it was based on trigger words? She'd had the vision about Peter when his name was spoken, after all. She thought back to her first few episodes. The first time she'd seen them, she was in the Department of Mysteries time room, and it had looked like an overlay, a place-memory. The second time, in Dumbledore's office, was much the same, only she'd seen Dumbledore there as well. Perhaps it was a place memory in conjunction with a person being present, on that occasion, as her most recent vision she had concluded came about with a trigger word. A name. But one incident stuck out to her: the time Gideon had found her on the third floor corridor. Why had she gotten a vision then? There was nothing special about the third floor corridor, and nothing connected to the vision. The vision had been of some old manor. But what was it they were talking about?
Lucius Malfoy. In Hogsmeade. That was the vision that had gotten her banned from Hogsmeade trips. She tried to think about what happened just before the vision, but all she could remember was being so dizzy, she had to hold onto a statue.
"The statue!" she murmured aloud. It was the One-Eyed Witch statue, the one that lead to the cellar of Honeydukes. It was a stretch, but perhaps she saw the statue and her subconscious had triggered the vision because of it's relation to Hogsmeade. If that was the case, her theory was correct.
She returned her attention to her breathing, away from the thoughts of her visions. Now that she knew what the probable triggers for the visions were, she could attempt to have one intentionally. She brought to the center of her mind thoughts of the Order, images of it's members swirling around her head. She thought of the open meeting she had attended, of Fabien Prewett apologizing for his brother.
Fabien Prewett. That name struck a chord. The other images rushed out of her head and her vision darkened. She could still see the candle in front of her face, but it was as though an image was being projected on top of her physical vision, and she could hear disembodied voices. She hadn't experienced a vision like this since her first, in the Department of Mysteries. The rest had been as though she was fully there, not in two places at once. She looked up, spotting Gideon and Fabien facing her, their wands drawn and hellfire in their eyes. Hermione twisted around, looking over her shoulder to see what they were up against, and gasped when she saw at least ten Death Eaters, masks gleaming in the darkness. There was no snow on the ground, but she could see the Prewetts' breath and they were dressed for the cold.
"So, are you going to take us to the girl?" Hermione heard a man drawl, though she couldn't place where she'd heard the voice before. "Or are you going to die?"
The brothers looked to each other and nodded, before launching themselves forward, casting spells left and right. Hermione watched one Death Eater fall, then another, before she realized what this was. This was their final battle. Harry had told Hermione all about the first Order, everything Mad Eye had told him. The Prewett boys had gone down in one final blaze of glory, taking out five Death Eaters on the way, before Dolohov had finally killed them.
Dolohov. That's was the voice she had heard but couldn't place- he had been there, during the Battle of the Department of Mysteries. He was one of the escaped prisoners that had rejoined Voldemort, and Hermione knew he was put in Azkaban for the murder of Gideon and Fabien. Hermione shook her head to clear it, and was surprised that the vision faded away.
"This can't be right, though." She said to herself. "The Prewetts weren't killed until 1981." Hermione was very confused, as her visions were accurate within a month's time typically. So either this technique, this form of scrying, helped her see further into the future, or the Prewetts were in immediate danger. If the latter was true, Dumbledore needed to know immediately. Hermione blew out her candle and stood, making for the door quickly.
"I'm very proud of you for figuring out a method for not only for stopping your visions, but for controlling them. It takes someone with a strong mind years to begin to understand divination, and while what you've been doing isn't quite the divination we teach here, it certainly has its roots in it." Dumbledore said, looking Hermione over. "Now then, your visions have proven consistently to happen within a month. As such, we will take the necessary precautions to hopefully prevent the deaths of Gideon and Fabien Prewett. I'm glad you came to me, Hermione, I had scheduled them for a mission next week, just the two of them. I'll ensure I send Alastor along with them, at the very least."
"Thank you, sir." Hermione said, a weight lifting off of her chest, but another thought crossed her mind. "Headmaster, do you think that my presence in this timeline is the reason their deaths were predicted so much sooner?"
"I think that is a possibility, yes. When all's said and done, there will come a time when your knowledge of the future is no longer valid. You've already changed much in the way of what's happened in the past you knew. And as a product of that, you will soon have to come to terms with living in your present, as opposed to the past or future."
"Funny. I've heard that expression before, but never did I think that I'd have to apply it so literally." Hermione said. Dumbledore chuckled at her comment before checking the time on the clock on his desk.
"It's late, dear, you should head on back to the tower. If you need to catch up on sleep, I can have Professor McGonagall know you won't be in class?" he asked.
"No, thanks, sir. I need to go to class tomorrow. Remus needs the notes." She said, and he nodded as she rose to leave.
"You're a good friend, Hermione. You know his secret, yes?" Dumbledore asked.
"Of course." She said with a smile. "I've known since third year." Dumbledore nodded, and Hermione left the room.
Hermione made her way back to Gryffindor tower, feeling sluggish. Unfortunately, that was one of the side effects of being out all night once a month: it took her weeks to not be tired during the day anymore. She wasn't sneaking, as she had Dumbledore's permission to be out of bed should she run into Filch, and so she held her lit wand in front of her. She was just outside the portrait hole when she noticed a form slumped against the wall. She went to investigate, only to find it was none other than Severus Snape. He was shivering, likely from sleeping on the cold castle floor. Hermione pitied him for all of five seconds, before he woke up, scowling.
"Put that light out." He mumbled, "What are you staring at?"
"Well, you're sort of sleeping in the corridor. That's a bit unusual, wouldn't you say?" Hermione said with a smile. She knew why he was here.
"Well, shove off. I don't need another Potter to deal with tonight." He said.
"Another? So then James was by earlier?" Hermione said. Snape didn't answer, but Hermione didn't need him to. "Snape, I know why you're out here. Lily is one of my best friends."
"She was my best friend, first!" he scowled, sitting up properly.
"I know." Hermione said gently. "But she has other friends, too. She's not yours alone, Snape." She sighed when she saw the fire and hurt in his eyes at that comment. "She cares about you. She really does. But your choices in this war and hers are very different. How can you support Voldemort when your bestfriend is a Muggleborn, and one of the smartest witches of her age?"
"I- have my reasons. But why should you care? You've hated me from the moment-"
"No. I've never hated you at all, really. I've responded to your hatred of my name. But at some point, Snape, you have to realize that names and blood status don't matter as much as the people themselves do. Are you prepared to kill Lily?"
"Never!" Snape nearly shouted.
"That's the path you're headed down. Your hatred for James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter, that has nothing to do with Voldemort's agenda. They're all purebloods, or at the very least, half. I understand they bullied you growing up, and that you will never be able to be friends with them, but Lily didn't choose James over you, Snape. It was never a competition to her. She's told me that, herself."
"But- how could she ever love me…?"
"Love comes in many forms, Severus. She loves you as a friend. As a brother. You grew up with her, right? Before Hogwarts? She will always love you. But that doesn't mean she will tolerate your shit."
Hermione turned and walked back to the portrait hole, surprised that the Fat Lady was actually awake. She gave the password and the portrait swung open. Hermione climbed through, but as she passed the Fat Lady, she heard a whisper.
"That a girl. You really told him how it is." Hermione smiled at the painting before trudging up to her bed to try and get at least a few hours of sleep.