AN: I love waking up to your reviews! Seriously the best thing ever. I struggled a little with all the internal dialogue that goes on in this chapter, but overall I am pretty happy with it.

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Hermione felt like she was stuck in a endless cycle of her worst memories. It was like she was wandering through a fog trying to find her way out, but the only way was to relive her darkest moments.

It was an endless barrage of her time in captivity, her parent's disappointment, and then scenarios her mind was making up. The night she'd shown up in this era she'd felt like she had a firm grip on her sanity, but now as she faced more and more of these nightmares, she could feel her grip loosening.

The first time she managed to break through her eyes shot open, but she was anything but lucid.

Then there was a hand on her shoulder, and she panicked. It felt like an out of body experience where she watched herself scream and yell incoherent words. It wasn't until another vial of something was forced down her throat that the fog returned. This time it felt less like she was gripping her sanity and more like she was reaching for something that was always just brushing the tips of her fingers.

All she knew was that it hurt. All of it hurt.

The second time she woke up she was catatonic. Her eyes were glazed, and she could hear voices surrounding her but couldn't register them. It felt like she was paralyzed. Stuck in her own body. It was like a new version of her old cell. She was constantly tensed in preparation of pain that wouldn't come. She decided this was much worse than floating away.

It felt like it must've been hours. Every once in a while a vague silhouette would hover in front of her face before disappearing.

She wanted to scream at them to let her out.

Pomfrey was called before she could break through her self-inflicted prison.

It was a new kind of torture.

When she woke up crying she knew she'd finally emerged. It was a silent cry where she could feel the wetness on her cheeks but her breathing was calm.

A smooth and hushed voice was speaking and it seemed to ground her. She used all her energy to focus on the words.

"...told the petrified King. 'Henceforth, every stroke of harm that you inflict upon my fellow witches and wizards will feel like an axe stroke in your own side, until you will wish you could die of it!' At that, the King fell to his knees too, and…"

"Babbity Rabbity and her Cackling Stump." Her voice cracked and broke. The voice stopped, and she immediately mourned the loss. Only one person had ever read her this story. "Ron?"

Someone drew in a long breath before saying, "I'm sorry, but no. It's Remus."

This confused her for a moment. She could feel her sanity on the edge of her mind knocking heavily on the door. She couldn't get the door open even if she tried.

"Lupin?" There was a pause. She tried to move her head, but she felt paralyzed again. Why was Remus Lupin reading her Babbity Rabbity?

"How did you…"

But she could already feel her eyes closing.

"Keep reading." She didn't want to let go. "Please."

Before she could figure out if he had listened to her the fog swallowed her whole again.

The next time it wasn't to someone reading, but instead it sounded like someone was giving a personal monologue.

"...and then my mother started screaming like a mad woman. Her blasting me off the tree didn't even surprise me. Actually it was probably the best thing to ever happen to me because now I get to spend all my time with a lovesick James."

Hermione had a weird feeling that she had heard this story before. Then something seemed to slither out from the crack below the door.

"Sirius Black."

Her voice was less broken this time, but still came out like the creak of a rusty hinge.

"Holy shit! James get in here!"

The yell slammed into her head, and she couldn't hold on any longer.

Of course, the first time she woke up and managed to stay that way she'd been alone in the room.

The room was dark save a small lamp beside the bed.

She didn't know where she was, and that along with the lingering nightmares caused her to go into a minor panic. This time when she tried to move, it worked, but every inch felt like a mile.

The feeling that she needed to get out overpowered her mounting nausea.

She pushed herself to the edge of her bed, and shoved herself up into a sitting position.

Her breathing was heavy and her thoughts were banging around in her head like a trapped beetle, but she still registered that she was now wearing a large worn jumper and plaid pants that fell down past her heals. When she put her feet on the ground she was standing on the fabric. Her hair and body felt clean for the first time in a very long time. She used the table by the bed to push herself up. Her vision was blurry for a moment. Once she was standing she felt oddly stronger. She walked herself to the door with light pouring through the cracks by balancing herself against the walls along the way. Getting out the door was a battle in itself, but before she knew it she was pushing herself down a flight of stairs and towards the smell of roasted chicken wafting through the air.

She could hear faint voices.

It took her longer than it should to reach the room where the sounds must be coming from due to her periodic stops and having to constantly have something to lean on. She hesitated at the archway that must've lead to a dining area before carefully pulling herself through and leaning heavily against the wall.

The conversation stopped and suddenly she was staring at five surprised faces.

"Where am I?"

She tried to keep the panic out of her voice, but she could feel it rising when someone stood up. What she saw squelched all anxiety.

Harry!

Her subconscious seemed to poke her.

Don't be silly.

But it had to be him. They looked the same. The same wire glasses. The same tall lanky build. Unruly black hair. Tanned skin. But then she really focused, and she finally noticed his eyes. The panic returned.

Not Harry.

"I don't understand."

This seemed to snap everyone out of it and the boy who definitely wasn't Harry ran towards her and grabbed her elbow. She tried not to flinch away from him, but she must've not done a very good job because suddenly he looked guilty and pulled away.

"I'm sorry, but I don't…"

Then a woman stood up from the end of the table and made her way over.

"Hermione, dear, my name is Dorea Potter."

Hermione blinked up at her before squeezing her eyes shut and leaning her forehead against the all she was leaning against. She was begging her mind to cooperate. She knew where she was. She swears she does.

"I'm not… I don't… Where am I?"

Something flashed in her mind.

Severus Snape standing over her. A heavy weight around her neck. A flash of light.

"The Order… The boy…"

No one in the room seemed to know what to say to the random words and phrases Hermione seemed to be spouting.

"Dead. I must be dead." She picked her head back up before banging against the wall again. She could almost feel her brain slamming against her skull, and then a dull throbbing. Pain. "Not dead."

James stepped forward again, but Dorea held up a hand. They all remained silent.

"Dumbledore." Something white bursting from a stolen wand. "A dragon?"

"Your patronus."

It was a man who spoke up. She hadn't even realized he'd stood, but now he was standing in front of her with a small smile on his face.

"Your patronus was a dragon."

"Are you serious! That is so cool!"

"Hush, James!"

Hermione pulled her head back and looked at Charlus.

It was clear then.

What is the date?

June 14, 1975.

She gasped and focused her eyes on the people in the room.

Remus Lupin was looking at her with weary but warm green eyes. Sirius Black had a pained expression. And not harry turned out to be none other than James Potter. Alike in everything but the eyes.

She clapped a hand to her mouth, but couldn't take her eyes off the boy in front of her. He looked back earnestly. She had to be sure it wasn't some terrible dream.

"What's the date?"

Remus spoke up, "June 22nd."

She shut her eyes.

"And the year?"

"1975," said Dorea. She laid a gentle hand on Hermione's, now heaving shoulder.

The panic was back, but with a large amount of resolve she sucked it in and shoved it in a tightly packed box in her mind. She stilled and looked up at Dorea.

"I'm sorry. I need to sit."

Immediately everyone jumped into action. Since Dorea seemed to be the only one who Hermione allowed to touch her she led Hermione carefully from the wall and to the chair next to Remus that James had pulled out.

When she was sitting she let out a woosh of air that she hadn't realized was stuck in her throat.

"Are you hungry, dear?"

Hermione realized she was, but she also new that solid food was a terrible idea.

"I'm not sure…" Dorea seemed to have been thinking the same thing because she clapped her hands and a small elf in a baby pink tea towel appeared.

"Mistress be calling Tilly?"

"Yes, would you please be a dear and make up some light broth for Hermione?" Tilly looked at Hermione then and smiled at her.

"Miss Hermione is awake! Tilly be watching you all week. Tilly listens to you talk in your sleep. Tilly will make you big serving of soup!" Then she disappeared. Hermione felt her cheeks burning at the idea that she had spoken in her sleep at all. If it had to do with what she had been dreaming about, where she'd been stuck, then she could only imagine what she'd been saying.

Sirius was staring at her most intently from right across the table. When the blush turned her entire face a soft shade of pink he realized something he really wish he hadn't.

This girl was rather pretty. She was rather pretty, she'd faced obvious torture, and she had known his name.

Sirius hated himself.

Merlin, she hadn't even known what year it was!

"Hermione, how are you feeling?" Charlus asked.

It seemed like a rather stupid question if she was being honest. She looked at him. The warmth on her cheeks had faded to a light splattering.

"I'm fine."

Dorea gave her an admonishing look.

"Yes, well I am sure you have a lot of questions. I think we'll start with introductions. My name is Dorea Potter as I said earlier, and this is my husband Charlus. And then there's our son James." James waved his hand. "This is our other son Sirius, and they're friend Remus. Their other friend Peter was here, but he left a few days ago."

Hermione tried not to look at James, Sirius, and Remus because looking at them just made her think about the time she'd left, and thinking about that hurt. She wasn't ready.

"Do you remember waking up at all?" It was Sirius who spoke she turned and stared at a place over his shoulder.

"No."

It was a lie of course. She remembered waking up screaming. She remembered waking up paralyzed. She remembered waking up to Babbity Rabbity. She remembered waking up to Sirius bragging about getting blasted off the tree. But most of all she remembered what she had said when she'd woken up. Lupin? Sirius Black.

For a brief moment, her sanity, which had become such a tangible thing in the past week, was seeping through the cracks again. She finally realized that their were voices in her head.

Severus Snape's. Albus Dumbledore's. Voldemort's.

The last hope.

I am not sure what I have done to you to earn this amount of distrust.

I will kill the boy whether you tell me where he is or not. You can not win this war, Mudblood.

She grabbed her forearm where the word was, and everyone watched the movement. She realized they must have seen it when they'd brought her here, and just this thought gave her an extreme amount of discomfort. Her fingers twisted in the soft, tan fabric of the oversized jumper. She'd gotten this scar relatively recently. Maybe a few days before Severus Snape had appeared standing over her.

"Am I…" she pushed those voices in the box and slammed it shut, "Am I going to be staying here?"

Dorea ignored her own upset over Hermione's injury and smiled carefully.

"Only if you'd like to."

Hermione let her breathing even out and said, "I think I would."

Charlus reached behind Remus and squeezed her shoulder. She managed to tone down her flinch to the barest of movements.

"That's excellent!"

Just then Tilly appeared and reached up to place a very large, very hot serving of soup in front of her.

Everyone seemed to be waiting for her to take a bite before returning to their meal. She picked up the spoon and tried to ignore the way her hand shook as she dipped it into the bowl.

She was frustrated that taking a sip of this soup seemed to be infinitely harder than holding Albus Dumbledore at wand point a week ago. By the time she got the spoon to her mouth there was maybe half a spoonful. She blew on it carefully before taking the first bite.

Everyone at the table let out a relieved sigh and started back in on their own meals. She was glad that despite her obvious difficulty, they didn't offer to feed it to her. Her pride would have suffered a great blow if that had been the case.

She planned on eating as much as she could stomach as a conversation took up around her. She zoned them out in favor of focusing on holding the spoon as steady as possible.

"Hermione?"

She hummed in acknowledgment, but kept her vision on the shaking silverware.

"Do you think you're ready to speak with Dumbledore?"

She dropped the spoon.

Her palms fell flat against the table cloth, and watched the spoon clatter to the table, the soup splashing.

She drew her fingers in until her fingernails were digging into her palms.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Her voice was noticeably tense. Charlus nodded in understanding. James looked confused.

"Why don't you want to talk to, Dumbledore?"

"James!" Dorea smacked her son upside his head. "That's her business!"

Hermione cleared her throat, "We have a history." She ended it at that before changing the subject. "Am I going to go to Hogwarts in the fall?"

"That's up to you."

Hermione was apprehensive. She'd had to drop out of school after third year to follow Harry on what had felt like a fool's errand. The idea of going back was appealing, but the line between her new reality and her nightmares felt nonexistent.

She also knew that if she was going to start formulating a plan for taking down Voldemort, Hogwarts was a good place to start.

"You should come!" James exclaimed.

"I think I would like that," she said.

She looked at James who was sitting to Sirius's left. She stared at his chin because staring at his eyes made him not harry, and thinking about how he wasn't made her think about what had happened to her Harry.

All dead.

She looked back to the table, and moved her palms flat to push herself up carefully. When she moved her hands there was blood on the pristine white cloth. She got confused before looking at her palms and seeing four little bleeding crescents on each hand.

There was blood under her fingernails. The box in her mind slammed open.

"I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't realize!" She reached for the black cloth napkin and tried to scrub at the blood, but it just made it worse and she was starting to get dizzy. The blood was smeared and starting to turn brown. She pressed the back of her hand against her forehead and there was a rushing in her ears.

Last hope.

All dead.

You can not win.

"Stop it!" Her hands moved over her ears and she dropped to the floor so that she was curled in a ball. She wasn't sure if anyone was talking, but when Remus reached for her arm she turned and ran for it. She was tripping and running into things, but she couldn't stop.

She didn't stop until she found herself in an empty bedroom that definitely wasn't the one she'd woken up in. There was a dresser and no windows. There were two beds and one was shoved up against the wall in the corner. She flew under the bed and curled into the corner.

They couldn't find her here.

Perhaps, the girl needs more motivation to talk?

It was just like the fog she was in. Every image was so clear. Death Eater's coming down into the dungeons to yank her out of the cell every morning. Voldemort's cold and violent presence as he tried to break into her carefully guarded Order secrets.

Now it felt like her own mind was trying to break in, and it was almost worse.

She curled up and tried to focus on her own breathing. There was too much space, and too many places for people and things to hide.

There were voices screaming her name, but she couldn't hear them.

To say Sirius was worried was an understatement. She'd been so weak on her feet, and then all of the sudden she'd flown out of the room so fast none of them had time to think about following her. Then she was just gone. Disappeared somewhere in Potter Manor. Finding a half lucid and apparently dangerous girl in Potter Manor was a tall order.

Dorea was panicking.

Later they'd all wonder why they hadn't thought to ask, Tilly.

But it wasn't later, it was now, and now they'd split up and Sirius was stuck searching the empty and unused guest wing opposite of where his and James's rooms were.

"Hermione!" He had a feeling she wouldn't respond to yelling her name, but he did it anyway because that's what you did when you looked for people, right?

He was halfway down the hall when he saw an open door at the end. His breath stopped and he hesitated. She was definitely in there, but he wasn't sure she'd be happy to see him. She couldn't even look at him at dinner.

Before he could stop he walked to the end and quietly stepped into room. It looked completely empty of people, but when he paused he could hear light breathing coming from what seemed like the corner. He walked over to the bed. Had she disillusioned herself?

He ran his hands over the covers, but she definitely wasn't there. But he could hear her! Then it hit him. She was under the bed.

He crouched down and pressed his cheek to the hardwood floors. She was a tiny thing that much was obvious, but it still baffled him that she'd been able to shove herself down there in her panic. She was curled up in the corner facing away from him.

"I thought only monsters hide under the bed. Isn't that what muggles say?"

Her body stiffened noticeably, but then she let out a breath and relaxed slightly. "Sirius?"

"Yeah it's me."

There was a pause before she said, "Maybe I'm the monster." Her voice was still scratchy like it'd been ever since she woke up.

"I don't think so, kitten. Now come on out. I promise I'm not a monster."

When she didn't make a move to leave he tried to coax her out with soft words. When that also didn't work he laid down flat on the ground so he could reach her and started pulling her out by the back of her jumper.

"No! Please, stop!"

He kept it up though and she started kicking and swinging in his general direction but he just wrapped his arms tight around her torso so that her arms were pinned.

"I'm not the monster. I promise."

He held her tight like that until she stopped fighting him, but she was still tense.

"Okay come on, kitten. I think it's time I take you back before James starts crying, and Dorea has an aneurism."

Her muscles were frozen. "I can't."

He let go of her to sit up. Sirius looked at her for a second. She just lay there exactly where he'd left her. He reached down and turned her on her back before putting one arm under her knees and one on the small of her back.

When he stood back up with her in his arms he realized she weighed almost nothing.

"What are you doing!" She tried to move, but he was holding her tightly, and she was very tired.

"I told you. James really will start crying. He's very emotional, that one."

When he started walking her fingers reached for the front of his shirt. The trip back to the room was pretty long, but she still tried to hold her breath the whole time.

When they were almost back Remus came out of a room looking frustrated. When he looked towards the sound of footsteps he saw Sirius holding Hermione in his arms. Remus visibly relaxed.

Her eyes were squeezed shut and one of her hands was gripping the front of Sirius's shirt like if she let go she'd float away. Remus raised his eyebrows and Sirius gave him a look like he'd tell him later.

They walked together to the room she'd been staying in in complete silence. When they reached her room he carefully placed her under the covers that Remus was holding up. She didn't let go of the front of Sirius's shirt, so he was forced to crouch down next to the bed. With the small amount of moving room he had, he swung his head down and made a show of checking under the bed.

"No monsters down here, kitten."

Only then did her hand carefully let go before pillowing itself under her cheek.

"Thanks, Sirius."

He smiled and winked at her. She flushed like she had at dinner before pulling the blanket over her head.

"Good night!" Her voice was muffled by the comforter.

Remus shoved him towards the door.

"Sirius, you have no shame."