Nightmares in Winter

...

She'd run, always run from the cruel laughter that reverberated from the high stone archways. She knew that they had been foolish to make decisions on the whims of a vision. Harry had lost everything, and she couldn't stand him losing anything else.

But, now she felt the foolishness of their choices as the laughter got ever closer, following her, grabbing her, pulling her down. The thickness of it wrapping around her throat like a claw, squeezing with something different than hatred, something... else entirely. The cruel laughter wrapped and constrained her in its tight grip. She couldn't move, couldn't move, couldn't get away.

Couldn't breath against the ache of it.

Slowly, the laughter died down, and in its place the clear snap of boots vibrated against the cold floor. As the sound moved closer, Hermione felt panic rising in her chest—her body trembling from the pain that was sure to follow. She was sure she was moments from death as the sound stopped next to her ear and she stared into cruel eyes.

The man—the Death Eater—had taken off his mask. And, now Hermione could see the deep creases of a frown on his lips as he crouched beside her restrained body.

"You make it so easy, kukla" his accent twisted the words playfully, tauntingly.

They stayed like that for what felt like ages to Hermione, the wizard toying with his mask between long thin fingers as he stared down at her. The need to close her eyes, to break her gaze from his was overwhelming, suffocating her.

It was too much.

Just as the tendrils of panic took over the witch's mind, he stood abruptly without touching her-his next words in a language she couldn't understand, but a warning nonetheless "Eto vopros vremeni. Vremya na nashey storone*."

She was stuck to listen, to feel the words on repeat as night ticked away to dawn, and dawn to morning, and morning to afternoon, until she finally woke up.

Hermione woke slowly, hyperaware that she was not in her bed in the Gryffindor dormitory. The sheets were smoother, colder than the warmth that a fire-place and her knit blankets provided. Peeking open her eyes, she found herself staring out a large bay window. Through the snowy branches of a huge tree the witch gazed at the picturesque view of a inky sky and a full moon. It seemed off, and as she chewed on her lip considering the scene, a realization dawned on the young witch:

It's not the full moon until next week.

Sitting up abruptly it all came back: apparating just outside the Burrow, the field of fire-Hermione flexed her hand tentatively-the Death Eaters.

Dolohov.

Tom Riddle.

I have to figure out a way to esca-

"You scream a lot in your sleep."

The witch gasped as her head snapped away from the window. On the far side of the room, next to a closed door, sat Rosier-his wand carefully balanced on one knee. Standing slowly, Hermione backed herself away from the bed and against a wall.

"We have dreamless potion if you think that would-"

"Why am I still alive?"

The wizard frowned at that question, "Why wouldn't you be? Although, that stunt you pulled with Rabastan-did you really throw your tea at him? Tony, I understand-he can be a nasty fucker when he wants to be-but Rab?"

"Why am I in here. Why are you in here?"

"You're just full of questions, aren't you?"

Standing up, Rosier made his way to the window, Hermione backing up with each step he made, "Tom asked me to guard you."

A scoff filled the air as the witch climbed over the bed to put more space between them," Guard me or make sure I don't escape?"

The wizard didn't respond and with his back to the witch, still looking out the window, she was unable to read his expression. Taking the opportunity, Hermione sprinted to the bedroom door. Her hands grasped the cold metal and pulled on it with all her strength. It didn't budge.

Of course it was locked, don't be a fool.

Screeching with frustration, the witch turned back to Rosier. He was staring at her, his gaze soft and understanding as the moonlight illuminated his tawny hair.

"Did you think it would be that easy?"

Clenching her hands into fists, Hermione pressed her lips together in stubborn silence.

"Where would you go any way? I'm sure Albus Dumbledore-" the name was sneered, "-would find your story a bit too suspicious."

"Riddle told you?"

"Of course."

Anger welled in Hermione's chest at the wizard's mockingly sweet tone. He was laughing at her? After everything she had been through-after what they had put her through-he had the audacity to make light of her situation, of her fear?

Unable to control her anger and-at that moment-unconcerned with the consequences, the witch stumbled forward until she found herself face-to-face with Rosier, venom spewing from her lips, "Then you know you lost. You all lost. Dead. Imprisoned. Gone." She ticked off the words with her index finger sharply tapping against the Death Eater's chest.

With the final word-gone-Hermione left her finger pressing into his chest. The rage seeped away as her words cleared and she looked down at her finger against the wizard's crisp button-up shirt. At the realization of how close she was to the Death Eater, a shiver of fear ripple through her.

What was she doing? What would he do in retaliation to a mudblood who had the gall to taunt him, to physically assault him?

What the witch didn't expect was the gentle pressure of Rosier grasping her arms to push her away from him and a laugh to follow her words. It was a rich laugh, one that she would have found pleasant in any other situation.

"I don't care about your future. The present is what I'm focused on. You being here changes everything-you're already changing everything."

The words hit the witch like a bludger. She knew he was right, being who she was the witch had read every piece of literature available about time-travel when she received her time-turner. Time wasn't a string, it was a pool of water that could easily change with even a single droplet of water.

Hermione felt her body sag against the realization.

Who knows the damage I have done by crawling through that snow and placing myself in Riddle's clutches. I should have allowed myself to freeze to death. I should have-

Another laugh drew her out of her focused self-pity.

"And obviously not all of us were gone, otherwise you wouldn't be here with me."

...

Hermione didn't sleep for the few remaining hours of night. Despite the plethora of questions she found courage to shoot towards the Death Eater all she got in return were almost playful questions shot back towards her. Eventually, they fell in silence as the witch turned from the impossible wizard and crossed her arms with a grunt of frustration, and Rosier pulled out a book and leaned back smugly in his chair.

Regardless of not receiving any real answers, she was able to ascertain one fact: she wasn't in any immediate danger. The witch wouldn't assume her time in the past would be anything close to pleasant-or painless-but they also weren't going to kill her just yet.

She would have a little time to plan an escape.

It was a small comfort, but one nonetheless.

As dawn took over the sky, the witch found herself staring out the window at the wisps of pink clouds smearing the horizon, her mind far away from the room she found herself trapped in.

Rosier's words weren't a bad idea. If she went to Dumbledore he could help her figure out how to get to her own time or, more likely, change this one. The Death Eater had been right that her even being here would mean that some things had already changed in the future. There wasn't enough known about the effects of time-travel for her to know whether she-no, that stupid Rabastan-had made it so her future no longer existed or if only minor changes had taken place.

The unknowing twisted a sickening feel in her stomach.

Still, Hermione knew enough about this time to help put favor towards the Light side. If I can find Dumbledore-

The witch grimaced.

By the end of the war, Hermione had found herself despising her future Headmaster-his mantra had been "for the greater good-" no matter who he hurt and manipulated in the process. There were countless times after the war that Hermione, tremoring with the still remaining aftermath of war, would remember Harry's suffering and wish that Dumbledore was still alive just so that she could give him a piece of her mind.

Still, going to Dumbledore is better than the alternative.

The sound of the door slowly creaking open made the witch sit up in the bed. In his chair, Rosier put down the book he had been reading to turn his head slightly towards the now fully open entryway.

Standing in the doorway was a teenaged Sirius Black.

With rich black hair falling over the harsh curves of his face, the young marauder entered the room carrying a package. The witch felt immense hope bloom in her heart. Perhaps the Order somehow found out that she was there, perhaps they had sent him to rescue her-to take her back to headquarters.

It wasn't until he spoke that Hermione realized her mistake.

That isn't Sirius.

"Tom wants you downstairs," the Sirius doppelganger's voice had none of the warmth that the young witch had learned to love in the real Sirius' voice during those days spent at Grimmauld Place. It was monotone-with an almost harsh lilt towards the end of each word. Completely aristocratic in every sense of the word. Facing Rosier, the young wizard pushed his hair back from his face in a way that was too similar to the marauder, but she could see it now. The slight curve of nose where Sirius' was sharper, the thickness in the build whereas Sirius was wiry.

A memory clicked in the witch's brain.

Sirius' had a brother, the one who had died trying to destroy the horcrux.

Harry had told them about Sirius' brother, who they had originally known as R.A.B., and how he eventually deflected, that he had attempted to take down Riddle and died horrifically in the process.

Knowing that he would die in that manner made sadness crawl up her body as she gaped at the young wizard.

It was like seeing a ghost. Something I suppose I should get used too now that I am in the past.

Pushing away the anxiety that filled her body, Hermione pushed herself towards the reality of the matter and filed away the information that this Death Eater would eventually deflect as potentially important while trying to find a way out of Riddle's clutches.

As if feeling her stare, the Sirius look-a-like turned his seemingly uninterested gaze towards Hermione in a way that reminded the witch too much of the Slytherins that had made her life hell during her initial time at Hogwarts. He was unblinking as he examined the witch in return, and Hermione had the creeping sensation that he wasn't even looking at her, but through her-almost as if he himself was seeing a ghost.

Breaking the moment, Rosier stood with a grunt to take the package from the wizard's hands.

"Thanks, Regulus."

Pulling his gaze from the witch, Regulus gave the other wizard one last nod before he closed the door as he left just as quietly as he came.

The witch twisted in the bed fully to watch as Rosier turned to place his book on the chair-stretching out the sore muscles of having sat in one place for too long. He circled towards her, and Hermione noted the exasperated look on his face.

Something is happening, or going to happen.

Crumbling the blankets surrounding her between fingers, Hermione leaned forward to voice her sudden worries "What's going on?"

"This is for you." Rosier tossed the packet at her feet on the bed, avoiding her question yet again, "put it on, somebody will be up to get you soon."

Then, the blond wizard turned to leave, shooting one last lopsided smile towards her as he shut the door behind him making Hermione want to screech in frustration all over again.

*"It's just a matter of time. Time is on our side"

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