Author's Note

Please forgive any spelling and/or grammar errors. I hope you enjoy it, please let me know what you think!

Someone asked me if Tonks and George are even legal, and I want to clear that up before you read this chapter. Tonks is three and a half years older than George. George is 18 when he leaves Hogwarts, and she is 21. I'm not a huge fan of age differences unless the people involved are at similar points in their life. These two are by the time they get together. They're both fighting in a war, which changes things and people's priorities. They both have established careers and have their own homes. They're on equal footing, so the slight age difference doesn't create an unfair power dynamic between them.

PS I'm not JK Rowling, so I don't own anything :(

Chapter 15: Running Out of Time

June 1996

Tutshill

The ominous breaking seemed to hover in the air, lingering noxiously like cheap perfume.

Hermione froze, hardly daring to breathe. If she were discovered…three Death Eaters and eight giants. It'd be over in no time. At least she wouldn't have to worry about being taken to Voldemort and risking the information she possessed spilling.

"Did you hear that?" Macnair demanded, instantly alert.

Screw secrecy. She had to get out of there.

Quickly, Hermione turned on the spot, shooting a scathing look at the guilty pieces of wood in the process as she stepped off of them. Nothing. The Death Eaters must have erected an Anti-Disapparation barrier around their campsite, and Hermione had gotten too close. She was under the net. Trapped.

Hermione could barely draw in a breath. Panic made her limbs tremble and her palms slick with sweat. Her fingers squeezed her wand more tightly, preparing to fight or flee, she wasn't sure which.

An eternity passed as she waited for a cue, a sign from the two to tell her what to do.

"No one is there. They'd have shown themselves by now if we were going to be attacked," Travers finally concluded, annoyed to have been put on edge, or perhaps even deliberately spooked by his companion.

"I suppose," Macnair said, clearly troubled.

"Or, wild thought here, but seeing as we're in a forest, it could just be possible that it was an animal," Travers said bitingly. The distance Hermione had already put between herself and the campfire made it difficult to make out all of the words, even with the Extendable Ears, but her mind helpfully supplied the logical words that she missed.

"In case you failed to notice, all the animals have deserted this little stretch of the woods," Macnair pointed out.

It was true. Hermione had noticed that weeks ago. The giants' presence and their regular bouts of fighting had frightened the majority of creatures away, their survival instincts likely demanding they abandon the area for safer places.

"If you're so sure it was something, you can go tell the Dark Lord right now," Travers muttered, but the dismissive statement was edged with something shiny and bright. Eagerness. That was what she heard.

"You think he'll move up the time table on his plans?" Macnair asked excitedly, probably bored sitting around waiting. He thrived on carnage and death, not hiding and sly manipulations.

Hermione sighed, slumping against the nearest tree in relief. That had been far too close for her liking. Sheer luck, and probably a fair amount of laziness was all that kept them from getting up to investigate. Which more than likely would have ultimately led to her death.

Hastily, she took a shaky breath and continued her progress through the trees, careful not to step on any more fallen branches.

"He may need to," Travers acknowledged, sounding speculative.

Just a bit further and she'd be outside their wards and far enough away to Disapparate undetected.

"Are -" was the last she heard before the joke ear was out of range.

She tried to Disapparate again. Still nothing. Sighing, she trekked further, deciding to try every ten feet. She couldn't be far now. Most wards only extended -

"Well, well, what have we here?" The deep, gravelly voice sounded joyous over his unexpected find, and had Hermione whipping around to face the final Death Eater.

Antonin Dolohov.

How could she not have noticed he wasn't around the fire? How could she have made such a dangerous mistake?

He looked precisely as he did in her nightmares. Long, pale face, pot-marked with craggy scars as he stared fixedly at her. His features were permanently twisted into a look of undisguised loathing, and he was as burly as the Weasley twins. The sight of him not five feet away froze her in place.

Memories of facing off in the Department of Mysteries bombarded her. Pelted her with the sudden force of a summer hail storm. He'd very nearly killed her. Madam Pomfrey still wasn't sure how she'd survived that night so long ago - that night that was less than twenty-four hours from occurring.

"Confringo!" he called, grinning as he tried to blast her.

Hermione ducked, dropping to the ground as it sailed over her head to blow a tree into a million tiny pieces, and she rolled to avoid the flying debris - splinters arrowing for her with deadly intent. She felt the sleeve of her robe catch on a root as she rolled. The loud rent of fabric tearing momentarily drowned out the noise of her rapid breathing and the staccato beat of her racing heart. Then she was on her feet and squaring off once more.

"Stupefy!" she cried, missing his arm by less than a centimetre.

Dolohov silently fired a curse back, quick as a flick of a whip, and Hermione only barely had a chance to cry, "Protego!"

The flash of blue light shattered her protective shield, and a thousand blades grazed her skin, tiny slashes that each welled with searing, stinging blood.

Hermione staggered, rapid blood loss leaving her light-headed and dizzy. 'Incarcerous,' she silently cast, sending thick ropes winding around the Death Eater. He dodged, but they managed to catch his feet, sending him sprawling to the ground.

The sound of the other two Death Eaters racing through the trees like stampeding bulls filled the area, and horrified, Hermione realized the formerly sleeping giants were no longer snoring. The loud rumbling having stopped sometime in the last minute.

Turning on the spot, she tried to Disapparate again, and was shocked when it worked. She thought only of Grimmauld Place as her body was compressed and sucked through a narrow straw. The stoop of the familiar brick building was before her in a blink. Exhausted, every inch of her body aching, she slumped against the front door, muffling her tears.

After the war, Harry and Ron had both thrown themselves head first into fighting and tracking down all of the Death Eaters still at large. But not Hermione. She'd never wanted to participate in a duel again. Not because she couldn't, but because she hated fighting. With every cell in her body, she detested it. She'd only ever wanted to learn because her life, and the lives of the people she cared about were constantly at risk. But that time had passed.

Or it had.

Now she was back in the thick of things. A time when dueling, not debating was the only avenue available if she wanted to make an impact. Except she'd forgotten the toll fighting took on her in the aftermath. The plummet once the high of battle wore off. Her entire body was shaking, and she felt as though she were coming apart at the seams, literally after that curse. And being forced to confront Dolohov of all people - a weight was pressing painfully against her chest - right where the scar he gave her resided.

Worse, the night was only beginning. The next twenty-one hours were going to be pure and utter hell.

The trauma of the year she'd been on the run with Harry surrounded her, playing out in technicolor in her mind. The danger and fear of that time strangled her, dragging her beneath the surface of the Black Lake all over again. She was a prisoner, drowning. Drowning in a way she'd managed to prevent herself from acknowledging all these years. Maybe she had been down there this whole time without even knowing it. But now the water was finally filling her lungs.

Her head was swimming when she finally opened the door. Absently, she noted that the smears of blood she'd left on the door were hardly noticeable. They blended into the dark paint, the only sign of their existence the fact that the spots were a touch shiny and reeked of rust and salt.

Slowly, painstakingly, Hermione made for the kitchen, hoping some of the potions she'd brewed for Hogwarts remained in the Potion Room she'd claimed for herself. She'd kept some on hand in case any of the Order members showed up in an emergency and needed them.

"Hermione!" Remus exclaimed the instant she stepped into the kitchen.

Without really noticing, she was somehow standing directly in front of him, his hands gently running over her arms, inspecting her multitude of injuries.

Hermione grabbed him without much forethought, and pulled his head down to kiss him, pouring all of her fear and relief into the kiss. Savoring the heady rush that came every single time she kissed him.

Rightness. Whole. Safety. Love. That was what he represented to her. They were the feelings that he alone could inspire within her. The kiss contained everything that had been missing from her life for the last few months. And as she lost herself to the sensations he invoked in her, her shaking gradually subsided.

It didn't bother her in the least when his arms went around her, squeezing her tightly and setting the cuts about her person to throbbing mercilessly. Being back with him made it worth it. Made it easy to stuff all the unwelcome emotions back into the little cubby she kept them locked in in the back of her mind.

Teasing warmth coursed through her, followed by the brush of wind, and she absently noted with some nonessential part of her brain that Sirius had used a healing spell on her, and repaired her shredded, bloodied robes.

"I've been looking for you for three days," Remus gasped into her mouth, keeping her pressed tightly to his chest.

"You have?" Hermione murmured, concentrating on breathing in the musky scent of sandalwood and chocolate that always clung to him. It was almost enough to center her after the events of the previous hour.

Almost.

"When you didn't check in, Snape sent word to me," Remus said gruffly, his hands running continuously over every inch of her body that he could reach. "He had a great deal to say, as a matter of fact."

"There was nothing to report, and I didn't want to risk being found out coming and going before it was necessary," Hermione explained, mind already beginning to sort through the list of tasks she still needed to do before the first Ministry employees arrived in the morning. "What about the pack?"

Three days? What happened to his own assignment?

"We came to an understanding," Remus said, a dark, deeply pained look crossing his face. She'd still, after three months, not heard anything about his time with this new pack. There'd not been an opportunity. But before she could ask now, he said, "I had no way to contact you without risk of exposing you."

"I've actually been working on that, but I promise, Remus, I was fine," Hermione said, touching his cheek, and smiling reassuringly.

"Fine?" he demanded, incredulous.

"Tonight was a fluke," Hermione said patiently, brushing it off, even as part of her mind curled up in a dark corner, a terrified child once again.

"Hermione, you -"

"Good, you're all still here," Albus announced, baffling Hermione as he swept into the room, expression haggard and grim. Remus released his hold on Hermione, the headmaster's entrance effectively drawing them apart.

"I sent word a few minutes ago," Sirius added in explanation. Hermione had been so caught up that she hadn't noticed.

He'd remained silent since her arrival, recognizing that she and Remus had needed the private moment earlier, but he was once more the alert soldier now.

Hermione gave him a once over and was startled to see how much better he seemed now that he was working with the twins. She'd heard from them a few times while she'd been stationed in Hogsmeade, and they'd each said that Sirius had taken to the work with an almost zealous fervor.

Obviously, they were right.

He looked the healthiest she'd yet seen him. She'd thought he looked better when she'd returned in March, but the difference was even more pronounced now. And for the first time since she'd landed in the past, the kitchen didn't have an underlying odor of firewhiskey.

If she failed, he'd die. The man before her, the one finally seeming to embrace life, would never have the opportunity to become who he had so long been denied the opportunity of becoming.

No pressure.

None.

And certainly not when her mind was already in a tailspin thanks to the unexpected events of the last hour.

"Yes, I have a report for you," Hermione agreed, giving Dumbledore a meaningful look. He nodded, but the solemn look never faded from his face.

"What else happened?" Sirius asked, picking up on it as well.

"Hagrid sent word," Albus replied, addressing everyone, but looking worriedly at Sirius. "Minerva was attacked tonight, and he was forced to flee the school."

"Tonight?" Sirius repeated, stunned. Then he was on his feet, squaring off with Albus. "Who's watching Harry? He's all alone! You swore they'd be there to look after him!"

"Sirius, calm yourself. The Order is not yet gone from Hogwarts," Albus reminded him, placing a placating hand on the younger man's shoulder.

"You mean Snape," he gasped, disbelievingly.

"Yes, I mean Severus. You have my word that he will not let any harm come to Harry," Albus promised, even as Sirius stared at him, jaw hanging open and concern darkening his frosty grey eyes.

Hermione glanced at Remus to find him already studying her, expression troubled. They'd recently fought about this very topic. Would he decide to trust her now? Or would the past continue to hold sway over him? He had just warned him that Hermione might be in danger. How far would the go to earn him some favor? She waited, and was relieved when he didn't jump in with Sirius to insist Harry wasn't safe with Severus. But he didn't look happy either. Far from it.

She only half listened as Sirius and Albus continued to debate the issue, pointing out how close the school year was to being over, that Moody was close by in Hogsmeade, and Sirius revealing that Severus had stopped giving Harry Occlumency lessons. Albus appeared to have lost interest in what Sirius was saying after that, too focused on the new repercussions of that knowledge. Hermione noted the way his eyes briefly flicked to her in silent question, the action going undetected by the other occupants of the room.

Mostly, she was absorbed with reliving the past hour when she'd been caught unaware by Dolohov. She really should have listened when Molly suggested she try therapy after seeing how well it worked for George. There was so much she'd suppressed, and never truly processed from what happened during the war.

She tuned in just in time to hear Albus say, "Enough, Sirius. As I have already stated, Alastor is on-hand should he be needed. Now, I believe you have new information for us, Hermione?"

"Oh, uh, yes, I do. The Death Eaters have gathered with eight giants near Tutshill. They are aware we know, and… and their first strike will take place in less than two weeks."

"Then we have time," Albus said, sighing. In relief or concern, Hermione couldn't tell. "I need to see about having Minerva moved to St. Mungo's tonight. That is the most pressing matter.`"

Hermione started after him when he made to leave, unintentionally ignoring Remus when he went to take her hand. "Sir?" Hermione said quietly, not wishing to wake Mrs. Black's portrait or be overheard. "Susan and her parents weren't there when Madam Bones was attacked. I think someone intervened to save them," Hermione said meaningfully.

She'd been considering it all week. The attack happened at night, after school had let out for the summer. Susan's family, living in the house next door to Amelia Bones, had no reason to be out on that specific night - not when everyone was aware Voldemort had returned by then, and were staying locked in their homes out of fear.

"You're certain?"

"Nearly… as much as I can be," Hermione acknowledged. "I think I was always here."

"I've been wondering about that myself. Everything adds up to that being the case. We should discuss this more later this week. I really must see about Minerva now, then check in with Alastor," Albus said, already distracted with his todo list as he left. She could easily relate.

"Hermione -"

"Remus!" Hermione cried, jumping like a frightened cat at the sound of her name. The look on his face made her feel unaccountably guilty. He'd not meant to sneak up on her, and it wasn't his fault she was so jumpy just then. "Sorry… I-I have to go," she said apologetically.

"What? No! We need to talk about earlier," Remus insisted. "Among other things."

The grandfather clock chimed twice. Loud, echoing clanges. Two. It was already two in the morning. Albus and Sirius had been at it for much longer than she'd realized when she zoned out earlier. And now she was running out of time. What she wouldn't give for a time-turner right then!

"Tomorrow. I promise, Remus," Hermione vowed, striding out the front door in Albus's wake, quickly Disapparating.

She'd have a few hours once everything was in place to go over what had been going on with each of them lately as well as the painful conversations about what she knew that he didn't seem to want to know about - including Teddy and Sirius. Assuming, of course, that he would hear her out this time. Maybe it was better if he didn't? She honestly couldn't tell anymore.

Therapy. When this was over she was taking Molly's advice so she could reach the state George eventually did. She just needed to make -

Hermione blinked when she looked up and saw the lights still on in the twins' flat. She'd not expected them to still be awake at this hour. She drew her cloak tighter about her as she walked to the side entrance of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, intending to check that the upstairs apartment was ready to go for the next night. If she pulled everything off, they'd have to move fast to get Sirius out of the Ministry without either of them being seen after the Death Eaters were arrested and before the Unspeakables and officials came down to investigate the Death Room.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," Hermione muttered, using the passphrase to unlock the side door leading to the back staircase. Only the family and close friends had it.

She tried the door to the third floor, only to discover additional wards had been set since she'd last dropped in. Apparently, another passphrase was required, and she didn't know what it was. With a sigh, she headed down to ask one of the twins to open it for her, or at least dismantle it long enough for her to move Sirius the following night - again assuming she succeeded. At least she wouldn't have to wake them.

The light was coming from the kitchen when she entered, so she headed that way, calling, "George? Fred? I need you guys to let -"

The sight of George's glowingly, brilliantly white bum greeted her. As did Tonks's long, slender leg wrapped firmly around the waist of the owner of said bum while he set about gyrating his hips against hers where she was seated on his kitchen counter.

Tonks's arms were wrapped tightly around George's broad shoulders, her nails digging in to brace herself as she met each rough snap of his hips. Parallel red lines scored his exposed back, evidence of her impassioned response to their coupling. A quiet, yet throaty whimper sounded from George, and Hermione could see Tonks's head buried in the crook of his neck where she'd likely just nipped him.

"Oh!" Hermione gasped, spinning around.

"Shite!" George cursed, and Hermione could hear them rustling about, detangling themselves as she headed into the living room, her face heated as all the remaining blood in her body raced towards her cheeks. "Bollocks, Hermione! What do you mean showing up unannounced at this hour?"

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry," Hermione moaned, mortified to have just walked in on the pair in such an intimate embrace - even if it had been in the kitchen. The kitchen of the flat he shared with his twin! Where was Fred during all of this?

Why had she even come here now? She'd meant to go straight to the Ministry then come here after - in the morning just before the twins opened the shop. She must have been far more rattled by the duel with Dolohov than she'd first suspected. Must be because she'd been thinking about therapy working for George and how screwed up the war had left her. The fight that evening was messing with her head and her carefully calculated plan.

Any more mistakes like this one, and she might as well give up now. This was the sort of thing that caused carefully crafted plans to go awry. The very thing that got people killed. Something Hermione couldn't afford to let happen.

"It's fine. We just weren't expecting you," George said good-naturedly, sounding like he'd found an absurd amount of unwarranted humor in the situation now that he'd had a second to process it.

"Why are you here?" Tonks asked, followed almost immediately by, "Have you seen my shirt anywhere?"

"Got it," George said. More rustling sounded, then the two entered the room, George still buttoning his trousers.

Tonks's short mop of purple locks were sticking up every which way, and the color clashed horribly with the crimson staining her cheeks. But her blush had nothing on George's. His freckles had faded, swallowed up by his ruddy flush, and the devious smirk stretching across his face. He was utterly incorrigible!

"Minerva was attacked tonight," Hermione explained when she saw they were still waiting to learn why she'd come to see them, "and Umbridge chased Hagrid out too." She'd decided it was too risky to tell Tonks about her plan since Tonks would be fighting at the Ministry. Only George could know the real reason for her visit. Part of it anyways. Less chance of unaccounted for variables.

Tonks looked outraged. Immediately, she began a tirade. "She didn't! Oh, that foul -"

"I, uh, I guess I just wanted to make sure you were informed right away."

"She's going to be all right, yeah?" George asked, the genuine concern for his former head of house made Hermione smile reassuringly at him.

"Of course she is," Hermione promised.

"Then why -"

""You should probably check in with Mad-Eye," Hermione suggested, cutting Tonks's question off.

"Oh! Yeah, you're right," Tonks agreed, grabbing George's shirt to haul him close for a disturbingly wet and heated kiss before she was off with a grin, and a slight bounce in her step.

George stared dreamily after her, clearly smitten with the older witch.

"The pair of you then…"

"Yeah. For a few weeks now," George admitted, bemused. He ran a hand over the back of his head then shook it a little.

So they really were a couple now. As soon as Sirius was safe, she was going to have to figure out what to do about Teddy, because this was a serious complication that she'd not really anticipated. She'd honestly figured George didn't stand a chance with Tonks - even if they really did seem perfect for one another.

"I just wanted to check that the upstairs apartment is ready to go," Hermione said absently, still caught up in her racing thoughts. "Can you take down the new wards you set? I'll need to be able to get in on a moment's notice."

"We'll be needing it soon then?"

"If all goes well," she muttered, terrified of what failure would mean. She'd truly come to care about Sirius. So much so, that losing him would devastate her in a way that it hadn't the first time.

"What is it, Hermione?" George asked, picking up on her mood.

She shook her head, unable to express her fears and doubts. Instead, she quietly said, "I best be going. I have a few other things to do tonight, still."

"It's almost three in the morning!" George called, but she just waved him off, still furious with herself for losing her head and doing things out of order. There wasn't room - not to mention time - for mistakes.

Not if her careful planning was to succeed.

Ministry

The sleek marbles floors of the Ministry Atrium hadn't changed a bit. It was like coming home, only all wrong. She'd spent so much time there over the years. Only the obscene fountain, filling the cavernous space with the sound of trickling water, with its misrepresentation of magical creatures and their roles in society was different from her time. The line of Floos set into the wall were all cold and dark at this hour. Even the most diligent and ambitious wasn't yet awake and headed into work. She should have at least an hour or two before she needed to worry about being interrupted.

Silently, she made her way to the lifts, passing the drowsy night security guard unnoticed, and pressing the button for Level Nine with her disillusioned hand. The cool voice announcing each floor filled the small, enclosed space, but Hermione could barely hear it over the throbbing in her ears. Her head felt as though it were muffled, buried in a snowbank.

Exiting the lift, Hermione proceeded down the hall, her head swiveling like a bobble head doll as she searched out intruders and potential dangers. Mad-Eye's paranoia seemed to be catching, and she was definitely infected.

"Kingsley," Hermione whispered as she approached, knowing he was hidden beneath Mad-Eye's spare invisibility cloak. "I need in there," she said quietly.

With a final glance around, she removed the Disillusionment Charm to reveal herself to him and gestured at the door he was guarding. Thank Merlin Albus had agreed to let her draw up the schedule for guard duty a few months ago. She'd deliberately scheduled Kingsley tonight and Tonks the next night.

"Are you really you?" Kingsley asked suspiciously, not removing his cloak. She smiled at the question.

"I'm not under the Imperius Curse if that's what you're implying," Hermione said drolly, holding her wandless hands out to show she wasn't a threat.

She waited as he cast a series of spells over her, using his Auror training to ensure she wasn't an impostor or acting under the coercive influence of a spell.

"You can't touch it," he warned, lowering his hood to level her with a troubled frown. He didn't ask for an explanation for her presence, which she was grateful for, but his worry was plain to see. A sign in neon lights would hardly make a stronger declaration.

"I have no intention of going near the prophecy," Hermione vowed emphatically. "I already know what it says, and have no need of it."

"Be careful. Many dangerous things are kept behind these doors," Kingsley advised, stepping aside to let her enter.

"Trust me, I know," she muttered, letting the door fall shut behind her and watching as the dark room spun.