Sirius Black paced angry, and borderline distraught, marks into the dirty floor. The edge of Hogwarts' forest visible outside the shack's window. Minutes ago he apparated them to the Shrieking Shack. Although Hermione was now long gone the moment he saw her fully and clearly kept coming back to smack him.

With better light he could see what he couldn't before. The bags under her eyes, the scratches and dirt covering half her face. He'd been careful to not hurt her before but she looked like she'd been attacked. She had been attacked. He should not have done that. He was an asshole and ten types of idiot. He half expected she'd run, run and tell Flitwick and that they'd come to arrest him again. He half wished they would. For he'd lost his head when she'd lit him on fire, forgot where he was, and instead of stunning her he sent more than one heavy spell back. She'd dodged, thank the old gods. He should have stunned her. He shouldn't have abducted her in the first place.

He was brought back to how Hermione had moved in his arm, how wary she'd been while she looked around the decrepit shack. There was a reason he'd held onto her. He couldn't let her wander out into a place regularly visited by a Werewolf and any others needing few witnesses. The shack had been shady business for as long as he'd known it. Sirius had raised his arm, moving it in a motion he'd found in a well read and loved book in his grandfather's library. The detection spell started, glowing a rose colored hue around the room and radiating waves and particles through the walls. Lily once called this a magical radar.

"Where are we?"

A pointed and pertinent question. These were some of her finest qualities, he'd decided, discernment and practicality. Sirius hoped she wasn't so practical as to leave him rotting in a gutter after this. Maybe she should. Yet that mean, jealous part of him which seemed smaller and more absent than ever whispered it hoped she wouldn't. It hoped she'd stay and that she wouldn't give up on him. Dumb, ungrateful, and rash as he might be. He couldn't handle it if she left.

"The Shrieking Shack. It has a way onto Hogwarts grounds undetected. I did something terrible here as a student. It almost got another student killed and I've felt like crap stepping foot here ever since." He didn't know why he was still speaking. Perhaps he wouldn't have much time with her and he needed to take whatever solace she gave him before she left.

"You should apologize."

It wasn't a question. He'd say it was an order if it weren't coming from a woman half his mass and if she didn't seem so tired. It'd been a long time since he'd let anyone order him around and he was still feeling on edge. What she said next took his mind down a turn. A turn he never wanted to think about, but daily did.

She shrugged, "Unless you don't feel guilty. It all boils down to that doesn't it?"

His jaw clenched. Sirius wasn't sure if she meant to tear his throat out with her comment. Regardless, he couldn't speak. He was guilty of so much. He couldn't sleep most nights for how heavy it hung around him. The woman he'd apparated here was in his arms and he'd added a substantial amount of guilt at seeing her in the light of the shack's grand unbreakable windows. She looked worse than he'd ever seen her. He'd done this. At the sight of her Sirius' mouth turned dry and air came in only small wisps. He'd done this.

Hermione hadn't stepped away immediately because his arm hadn't let her go. Not while his wand still slowly swung around them scanning the shrieking shack in a more advanced revelio. It'd check the entire premises to identify people, animagus, familiars, and other sentients. The spell needed to run for 30 seconds till it completed. When it finished and the revelio proved them alone, he looked down again and let his arm slide from her.

He raised his wand to poke in the direction of her mussed clothes. Sirius questioned softly , "May I?"

She looked as if she wanted to say no, but instead gave a shaky nod. With a double circle and flick her face and hair washed clean. Her clothes pristine and ironed. Then he'd pointed her down the stairs into the underground passage and watched her leave. It only took three minutes before he panicked.

"Bloody buggering, what in fucks did I do?"

Hermione's feet led to her dorm room where she went and closed the curtains then charmed them unopenable for anyone without her magical signature. Good thing no one was around at this hour for Hermione had apparently missed the classes, so she'd have to soon turn back and relive today again. If only she didn't have to. Oh how she wanted some space where she didn't have to think about timing, scheming ways around McGonagall and the ministry, and where no previously imprisoned convicts needed trials. Frankly, she just wanted this never ending school year to be done and for her to be sitting at her mother's table chatting with dad about the latest thing he'd found on the internet. Something normal and not at all revolving around murderers.

Yet, there were only two possibilities to get her out of this. She needed to catch her friends' pet rat and prove him a mass murderer, preferably without getting murdered herself. Or she needed to catch the rat, find out she'd been lied to by Black, explain to the DMLE she'd been associating with a mass murderer, tell them everything she knew about the infamous Sirius Black and hope he didn't find her one night while she slept. Either Black was the mass murderer and somehow lied to her, or Pettigrew was and he had spent a significant portion of his life living as a children's pet. Either way, she couldn't afford to do nothing. She'd have to catch the rat.

This however was easier said than done as rats were small and could even get away from Crookshanks. Nor did her attempt at a simple, "Accio Scabbers." So how to catch an animal when common summoning spells didn't work on live beings and how to detain it without anyone's detection or interference?

Finding an alternative took her a few potions ingredients, transfiguring a fake rat to take its place, and a distraction. Thus her plan was born. She thought if she'd been the mad scientist Frankenstein she'd never abandon her living and thinking creation. No, she'd keep her monsters close and make sure they lived as happy and healthy a life as they were capable. Not as if a magically transfigured creature was living or thinking, but Hermione felt very much like Frankenstein as she set up her space and raised her wand to transfigure the couch into a huge animated troll. It took up much space in the otherwise unoccupied common room. Hermione recognized she shouldn't be getting this much delight from the idea of scaring the sixth and seventh years who were scheduled to arrive shortly. She hid herself under a disillusionment charm in the corner and watched the older students barge through the portrait hole only to shriek and scramble back.

It's brilliant. Her experience with the real thing's appearance and odor left a vivid animated troll sitting and drinking tea in the Gryffindor common room. It sat there all the way through mid periods and lunch. It's presence caused utter pandemonium just as expected.

However, the rat she needed fell asleep in Ron's pocket, not Ron's bed as usual. While she could turn back and try to sneak a second version of herself to salvage this situation Harry had been paying her way too much attention and Hermione realized she shouldn't have made the Troll's look or odor authentic. After all, only so many students had seen a troll. She hadn't expected to suddenly be the focus of her first friend's famous and fastidious attention. He'd noticed she looked peaky and ever since the Troll lunch Harry had been throwing her strange looks. Thus Hermione ditched her first attempt as a failure.

Sometimes Hermione wondered if he was a passive legilimens for how many correct subconscious hunches he had on people doing suspicious activity which should look perfectly normal. Well her troll wasn't perfectly normal, but her otherwise unchanged activity now seemed extremely interesting to the boy who'd not been at all interested the week prior. Harry inherited Parseltongue from Voldemort and the man notoriously could rip apart his victims' minds, which sounded an awful lot like legilimency to her. True to form, Harry successfully and obsessively kept at her side till well after dinner. Using the excuse of "bathroom and grab a book," Hermione had to sneak her way out of his company so she could go relive the day again.

However, after sleeping on this 24 hour turnback she remembered the cauldron she'd set to brewing in the public use spare classroom next to Snape's office.

"Shoot!" Hermione shouted into the empty hallway and belted down the stairs.

Making her way towards the dungeons she berated herself. Hermione couldn't believe she almost forgot. Usually she checked the potion during lunch and during her free period after, but after throwing her schedule out the metaphorical window the wolfsbane potion had been blown from her mind. This is probably why Snape was so hesitant to give out his password for the project room. If a student forgot their cauldron it'd have disastrous consequences on any other unguarded cauldron in the vicinity. If she'd left her potion even an hour more...ugh. She didn't want to think about her three months work ruined.

Today it needed stirring for a consecutive few hours on the hour. She was thinking on these steps when she saw someone she needed to avoid. Vector. Damn. Hermione bolted into the shadowed doorway next her. Professor Vector walked with a sheaf of student arithmancy papers, grading the topmost as she walked. Her teaching robes swept an elegant line behind her and glowing numbers sparked from the woman's wand. Vector, who would know she was supposed to be in Arithmancy and Care of Magical Creatures before lunch, was not someone Hermione would think trustworthy of one of her larger secrets. Let alone if they caught her today of all days and started asking why she'd gone off schedule. No, no, that wouldn't do. Hermione stood still until her teacher passed, then sprinted down to the stairs she needed.

Upon entering the dungeons, Hermione was just sneaking in when she saw a familiar cat and the cat's vengeful caretaker. Hermione froze, holding her breath and not moving until they turned the corner. Only when Filch and Mrs Norris had been gone for a minute with no sounds of returning did she creep forward.

With Snape's office right next door this classroom turned lab had been stocked with cheap supplies and stood full of work benches. Only 10 of them were in use currently and Hermione wondered when the other students received their invitation to use this space. Had they too had to wait until Snape deemed them adequate? Of the projects in the room Hermione's was the only one with a protective dome cast over it. No stray ingredients would ruin this. No pranks allowed on her three month project. A thing she always thought of these days.

After pranking Fred and George and earning their dubious attention Hermione became conscious of what she ate, drank, and brewed. No cup or cauldron left unattended, which had added benefits in potion's class. Now when Malfoy threw his monthly prank into Neville's cauldron the ingredient more often than not bounced off Hermione's barrier erected over their table.

Snape, the first time he saw it, simply stood next to Neville's cauldron as if it held many great thoughts too large for the likes of his students' small heads. That day he'd neglected to call either Hermione a know it all or Neville a dunderhead. Hermione felt like she'd passed some sort of test. Was this the sort of practical effort he'd been expecting of her? After that she didn't raise her hand once in class and her essays stayed to the limit with one or two original thoughts of addition thrown in for later experimental use.

So when Snape told her about the spare potions space for extracurricular student projects she'd been floored. He'd told her how to get in and instructed her to not take up more than a single table. Hermione wondered if he would have told her about it second year if she hadn't been so annoying with hand waving or if he simply thought her incompetent after the cat hair incident.

So her time this 24 hour period was spent catering to her potion in the dungeon room only 11 people had access to. She was on her 301st clockwise turn and about to add the bleekwood bark when a shadow crossed her workspace. Counting two more turns and stirring in the crumbled bark she lowered the cauldron's heat, then asked.

"What can I do for you sir?"

"You are looking particularly harried today. You were running everywhere I saw you."

His comment left her heart racing. Hermione's hand clutched the work table as if it would helpfully suck her up and hide her from the extremely perceptive man.

"Tell me Miss Granger did something happen the teachers should be informed about?"

Later she'd realize how damn lucky she had been to be facing away from him. Her eyes went wide and her other hand cleaning her cutting board faltered for a moment before continuing. He was an observant bastard. Always had been so she wasn't sure why she thought he wouldn't see today's behavior change. He of course had been informed about her time turner like every other member of staff. However, he'd never once talked with her about it. She wondered then how many turns her future self would have to make of this day in order to catch the blasted rat. Hermione hoped only one more. She hoped Snape hadn't seen that many. She was getting worn out.

"No sir, I haven't seen anyone breaking any school rules."

Technically using secret passageways weren't against school rules. Nor was consorting with possible mass murderers. Nor was attempted kidnapping. Hermione's 11 year old self would be horrified.

"Good."

She snuck a look up and to the side in order to gauge his reaction. His mouth was almost twitching up. He might not be Elf, Goblin, or Veela but if there was a single ordinary Wizard here who'd work out what she'd been doing it would be him. Hermione half wondered if he'd offered her access to this room just to gather evidence on her time table, not that she was so careless to spend so many hours in a single space. Much, much too easy to catch her that way.

This must be paranoia and exhaustion. There was no way one Severus Snape would want to know what little old her was up to. Yet if Snape thought she'd be stealing from his potion stores again he'd have incentive to watch her. So far she hadn't stolen anything for her wolfsbane, but he was by now aware of what she spent her spare time concocting. Several times Snape had come to look in as she worked, but today was the first he'd spoken rather than silently assuring himself Hermione wasn't about to explode anything.

"Oh and Miss Granger?"

"Yes sir?" She turned fully to him.

"If you give anyone, say a professor, wolfsbane potion which hasn't been first approved by the Quality Commission I would be forced to have you expelled under proof of selling illegally traded ingestibles. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir. I actually planned to sell it discounted out of an official store in Diagon Alley, so it'd be accessible to more than just one wolf."

He raised his brow. "You weren't doing this for Mr. Potter's new tea buddy. Weren't planning to slip it to him this summer."

She frowned. "No sir. The man's not once come to visit Harry at home. As far as I know, not a single authority or family friend ever checked on his foster situation. Rather odd as my parents complained about some of Harry's questionable bruises and lack of weight." Not wanting to yell and not able to do more for Harry at the moment she turned. Her parents had been stewing over the second rather flippant response they received from Albus Dumbledore regarding their concerns for the boy's living situation.

Hermione waved her hand over the cauldron, "According to my estimate this batch has enough for ten wolves. Seems a waste to give it all to one."

"Hm." He turned.

"Oh and Professor?" He didn't pause so she raised her voice, "Thanks for the advice about the Commission!"

This is why she loved smart adults. They were literally worth their weight in gold if a person only bothered to listen to them. She turned back to her cauldron, a huge smile overtaking her previously exhausted expression. Yes, this could work. She set the cauldron cover as needed and put her remaining ingredients under a stasis. It'd be ready to finish during the next full moon. With that done she went to find a place she hadn't yet used for today's previous turns. Her lip snuck between teeth as she focused on the logistics. Never had Hermione taken so many consecutive turns to cover a single day.

With her first plan and attempt blown full of holes she went back a few more times. Hermione couldn't afford to mess up and get caught or have Pettigrew catch on. No, her next kidnapping attempt had to be her last and it had to be flawless. So she went a total 6 turns, 24 hours each, reliving this day. She got her new preparations set, had the timing of the rat's location recorded beforehand, and knew exactly what she'd do and when she'd do it. Luckily by then all the tedious details like attending McGonagall's transfiguration class (which originally got ditched for shopping six days ago in Hermione's timeline) and turning in her werewolf essay to Snape had gone without a hitch. Those kind of details, which if she failed to do, would trip up even the finest schemer. Oh yes she was capturing a murderer, but first she'd finished her homework and looked up spells on stealth. She'd devoted an entire days worth to reading up on the ways of being stealthy, sneaky, and as silent and unseen as possible.

Hermione was going to be quiet like she'd never been quiet before. When she'd told Winno this the dratted Elf laughed at her.

Hermione insisted, "I can be silent. I can."

Well, if she used a spell or two to help her, there wasn't going to be a single conscious soul around to grade her on it.