Chapter 77: Sunday, July 12, 1981

"What I've learned is that change is very, very hard. But, I've also learned that change is possible—if you fight for it."

-Elizabeth Warren

Hermione kissed Remus goodbye and wished him luck on his assignment. It was never easy, watching him walk away, knowing he was stepping into danger, but the knowledge that she was without a timeline now to work against, helped to ease her mind—if only a little.

She quickly showered and changed, knowing that she would be late to meet with Snape at the cabin in Yorkshire. But, then again, even if she was on time he'd find a reason to complain. While she tied the laces of her trainers, she wondered if Harry would find the humor in her assignments with their old Potion's Professor like she did. She allowed herself a moment of laughter as she thought about the look on his face and the absolute disdain he would feel knowing she had to work one on one with him. He may have ultimately been on their side, but Hermione knew that Harry would always harbour distaste for the man. He did, after all, make their lives living hell.

Taking one last look around the house, that would remain void of the smell of fresh Chelsea Buns until Remus' return, Hermione stepped out the front door and apparated to the cramped cabin.

When she opened the door, she was assaulted first, by the stifling humidity of brewing potions left in self-stirring pewter cauldrons. Then, it was the irritated, beady-eyed gaze of Severus Snape as he clicked his tongue in disapproval at her lack of punctuality.

"You're still working the memory potions?" Hermione asked as she approached the table and peered into the nearest cauldron. A thick, murky green potion bubbled away, sending plumes of foul smelling steam into the air.

"Yes," Snape drawled, not taking his eyes from the small, blue bird he was plucking with a strange looking pair of tweezers.

Hermione set her bag on the chair and rifled through it, pulling out the journals that had been neglected and her pen. "I thought we could work on the curses a bit more."

"Dumbledore has appointed me Potion's Master for Hogwarts this coming term," Snape said. "I was made aware that this project—" he finally looked up from the bird and motioned to the cauldrons. "—must be completed before the start of term."

"Right…" Hermione said, dragging out the word. "You see, the thing is, this potion is no longer needed."

Snape sighed in clear irritation and gently set the tweezers down, looking slowly up at her. His eyes roamed over her face, scrutinizing her expression and he folded his hands in front of him. "Funny, I don't recall your name being Albus Dumbledore. Moreso, I'm fairly certain I have never given the impression that I would circumvent the orders I was directly given by him because you decided to undermine his wishes. However, it could be the fumes of the memory potion causing my nearly impeccable memory to slip."

Hermione clenched her jaw, closing her eyes briefly to count to ten. Upon opening them, she saw a smug look of victory on Snape's face and she took a deep breath, "I am not circumventing Dumbledore's order, Severus. I am the one who needs the potion, and I am the one telling you it is no longer needed."

"Dumbledore is the one who gave me the order, not you." Snape said, "If the last several months of work are no longer needed, might I suggest you take it up with him? Until then, I will continue brewing the potion until it is complete."

"You need my DNA, do you not? I won't give it to you."

Snape snorted what she assumed was laughter, "Bold of you to assume I don't already have it."

"I haven't given you—"

"You leave mugs of tea lying about weekly. The owl's nest you call hair sheds worse than a boarhound and if you think I can't get skin cells off the stool you sit upon, you are sorely mistaken. I don't need your permission, by asking it, I am extending simple courtesy. A courtesy I see no reason to follow through on."

Hermione folded her arms over her chest, seething. "We have more important things to worry about! These curses are killing people, good people. The Order is failing and if you give a damn at all about any of it, then you will put down the potions and help me deconstruct these damned curses!"

"Don't you dare assume what I care about," Snape hissed. "You know nothing about me."

Hermione bit into her cheek, keeping her retort of 'I know everything about you' to herself. Instead, she opened up the journal and began working out the very curse that consumed Fabian Prewett. If Snape wanted to continue playing with his potions, fine. She would at least work to find ways to break down the curses that were claiming their people faster than they could keep count. Perhaps, she would even try her hand at concocting one of the antidotes listed.

With that in mind, she crossed the room, taking care to slam her stool against the table, and pulled a clean cauldron off the shelf, heaving it back onto the table.

"What are you doing?" Snape asked.

"I'm going to brew the remedy for that curse," Hermione said, looking pointedly at the open page.

Snape scowled and rolled his eyes, "They aren't remedies."

"Of course they are!" Hermione insisted, "Why else—"

"Do you know what you get when you combine ashwinder venom with powdered moonstone?"

Hermione stopped, anything she could retort died on her lips as she raked through her memory, trying to figure out what the combination would do.

"Ashwinder is combustible," Hermione stated. "Powdered moonstone, in small doses can be used in Draught of Peace or Amortentia and—"

"Exactly," Snape hissed. "Two potions that alter the mind and trick it into doing someone's bidding in the name of light and love. Combine the right amount of those with Hemlock and Valerian Root and you have a potion that when put into a container, can be expelled into a crowd and will cause mass hysteria, poisoning anyone within a hundred feet."

Hermione stared down at the page, flipping through them. "Not all of them are dangerous," she said. "Some of them…"

"Yes, some of them have remedies, but that particular one does not. I created potions as needs arose for them, not to counteract the ridiculous curses Dolohov and the Dark Lord put together."

"But...but…all those people. You tested on werewolves and muggleborns and had no antidote? You left them to die?"

"I executed the orders I was given," he said, his voice low.

"All of the people being turned and tortured...have you any compassion? Don't you care at all?"

For the first time in the months of working with Severus Snape, he met Hermione's eye and there was no malice—no anger or scrutiny. There was exhausted sympathy.

"You can't save everyone. You can try, but you will get yourself killed. The Dark Lord has power beyond which even Dumbledore knows. Plans to take over and destroy every living thing that gets in his way."

"He's not this omnipotent being, he's human."

"For now."

Tuesday, July 14, 1981

"Strange, isn't it?" Lily asked, fighting with a very rambunctious Harry as she tried to get him to eat a spoonful of mushy peas.

"What is?" Hermione asked, chuckling as Harry grabbed the spoon roughly from his mother's hand and waved it about, splattering the tiny spoon of peas onto the floor and laughing loudly as the cat scurried off.

"All the boys being gone again," Lily answered, sighing as she tried to wipe Harry's face. He instead, decided to try and eat the cloth in her hand. "Oh, Harry! The cloth isn't meant for your mouth, silly boy. That's what the peas are for!"

"Can hardly blame him, not when Remus goes out of his way to sneak him custard whenever he has the chance," Hermione laughed. "It is oddly quiet, though. Where has James gone off to?"

"He was given permission to go to the muggle shops in town to pick up a few things. I think he's just bored, honestly. Ted and Moody went along with him, though. He won't let me leave, of course, but I'm afraid of the state things would be in when I got back with him alone here with Harry."

They chatted amicably for quite some time, something Hermione was happy to do. It had been ages since she and Lily had been able to just enjoy one another's company without it involving a dire or heavy subject. Lily talked about her sister, lamenting that she had yet to see her nephew and wished things were different between them. She wanted Harry to grow up knowing his only remaining relatives, to which Hermione promptly changed the subject. The thought of the neglect that her Harry had known at the hands of Lily's sister and her awful husband didn't seem like a great topic to discuss.

After James got home, with a feast of muggle takeaway, they sat down for dinner and began talking about more pressing matters. Apparently Moody was under the impression that the Death Eaters were working on another large scale attack, as if the muggle killings and disappearances weren't enough.

They discussed Dumbledore and his reasonings, wondering what exactly they were gaining by continuously sending Remus off to work with werewolves, when there were no new allies being made. James seemed frustrated with the topic, wanting to defend Dumbledore but also concerned for Remus' safety. Hermione asked about Peter's assignments, a question met with next to no information. It seemed as if no one really knew the assignments Peter was gone for, aside from 'collecting intel', something that made Hermione's stomach twist uncomfortably.

Peter was absolutely collecting intel, but not for the Order.

After pudding, Hermione said her goodbyes and made her way home, strolling the short distance along the street. She could see the stained glass windows of the church, not far off, and wondered if it was filled with muggles begging for mercy against the strange forces that had begun to sweep through their quiet lives.

When she got back inside her own home, she slipped off her trainers and changed into something more comfortable, wishing more than anything Remus was there to snuggle against. Even thinking about him, the magic that bubbled inside of her seemed to pull against her chest. But, no matter how hard she focused on it, it seemed just out of reach. It was strange, really, how attuned she had become to Remus since being marked.

Her fingers slid to the back of her neck and rested against the scar there. It was cleanly healed, barely a raise of stretched, silvery skin against her own olive toned flesh. The small ridges of the outline of his teeth were hardly there, and yet she could feel each one. But perhaps, that was just the familiarity with his mouth. She folded her legs underneath her bum and pulled her own journal into her lap, going through the notes from the past Order meetings, jotting down little things here and there.

Hermione found herself lost in her notes, once again, allowing the weight of her decisions and lack of information sit heavily in her mind. Her entire life, she had always had the answers. She was well researched and spent every free moment she had in the library while she was at Hogwarts. She had revised and revised until her fingers bled in fifth year, preparing for OWLs. She had spent hours upon hours in a tent in the wilderness reading and researching and trying to decipher bits of half-relayed information. She had always been successful with everything she tried her hand at when it came to magic and knowledge.

So why now, was everything such a struggle?

It was frustrating when she thought too long about it. Never had she felt so absolutely stupid as she did in the last year and a half. Always proud of the work she put forth, she was so certain that coming back in time must be the answer. But, now when she really looked at it, it had been such a rush decision. Reckless and ill-informed as it was, however, she could not bring herself to regret it. For a moment, she wondered what would come of everyone upon her staying. Was she ruining lives by staying in this new time with Remus? Surely, the benefit of vanquishing Voldemort sooner and saving Lily and James was worth the risk?

There was too much left to do in this time and no matter how much she missed Harry, Ron, Ginny, Draco—she couldn't leave so many things undone. Not only was she determined to find a way to give not only Harry the life he deserved, but James, Lily, Sirius, and Remus as well. All of which posed their own set of problems.

First, she knew James and Lily died when Harry was very young, but that specific memory of the events surrounding their deaths, had yet to uncover itself. She knew Peter was somehow involved, given the memories of him that had surfaced, but she couldn't prove it yet. Until she knew when their deaths were supposed to take place, she couldn't figure out an alternative plan.

Next, the Dementors remained an issue. Although her own curse had been broken, it wasn't as if she could go around dolling out near death experiences to every muggleborn that had been cursed. She would need to figure out a way to save them. She couldn't leave this time knowing that so many people were doomed to spend their lives haunting others, sucking happiness from people in a desperate attempt to feel something again. Especially not when there were several of their own that had been turned and the threat was ever-looming.

Lastly, there was the issue with the werewolves. It was already well known that most of the packs were hostile. Even the foreign packs that had become allies to the Order weren't exactly friendly. Remus had come back from missions injured more times than Hermione wanted to think about, and it was only the beginning. With werewolves turning out of cycle, it opened up the possibility of infecting people out of cycle, as well. She would need to make it a priority to find out exactly what that potion was, and reverse engineer it.

As Hermione sat, planning out her life as if she would stay forever, she felt a twinge of guilt to her old life. Her parents, still without their proper memory and living in Australia, would never regain their proper minds. She had no idea if she could even restore them, at this point—it had been so long. But, she liked to think that one day she would get to see them and they would know her. If she stayed forever, it was guaranteeing that they would not have their lives back.

Her friends would cease to exist as they were, which was a terrifying thought. Would she be changing things for the better? She couldn't help but to think of Draco, Blaise, Theo and Pansy; all children of Death Eaters who had turned their backs on their lineage to fight with The Order. Would they still make those choices? Would they even have to?

With her mind full of even more questions, Hermione moved from her chair to the bedroom, opening the drawer in the small table next to the bed, and pulled out the familiar necklace and blade. She didn't wince anymore, when she dragged the silver through her palm and wrapped it around the stone. She no longer stumbled over the long latin phrase that gave her more time. When the glowing of the stone stopped and she felt the warmth dissipate, she put the blade and necklace back into her table and dropped a bit of essence of dittany onto her palm.

As the skin stitched itself back together, she felt a wave of determination ignite in her belly. She could do this. She could stay, give her friends the lives they deserved and save people in the process. She might have been reckless and ill-informed before coming here, but she would not let the next generation clean up her mess.

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a/n: I'm back! Thank you to everyone who left well wishes and thanks to my sister! I showed her all of them, and she said to thank you all! She's doing really well and it was so good to see her (even if it was only for nine hours)

Now, onto some not so great news- I had some family stuff happen while we were gone, and it may cause updates to be a little inconsistent. I'm going to try really hard to stay on this schedule, but I wanted to give a heads up, just in case something happens that prevents me from being able to upload. If you haven't, please check out my FB group (Mimifreed Writing) bc I'll more than likely keep everyone updated there.

xo