When she came to, she first noticed the softness underneath her prone form. Then came the pain in her stomach and the nausea turning inside. She groaned softly and heard a warbled voice. She had expected the death eaters to throw her in the dungeons, not put her in a bed. Unless they planned to torture her that way. She paled at the thought and her stomach lurched violently.
She cracked an eye open to scan her surroundings, and came face to face with a head of red hair and swirling mocha eyes. George. Maybe it was a dream. She was eternally grateful and very much relieved that she hadn't actually been sent back, otherwise she'd be in the middle of a torture session.
"George? What am I doing here?" She croaked through her raw throat. She took in the small bedroom, and she assumed they were currently at his flat. Various charms and potions books littered every available surface as well as overstock products they'd made. He must have turned an office into a guest room/storage room. She saw her jacket hanging on a chair in the corner along with her wand and felt relieved. He conjured a glass of water for her and she drank it eagerly.
"It's Fred, Granger, you must've hit your head harder than we thought." The red-head said with amusement dancing on his voice despite the worry she could see hiding in his features. She felt that familiar pain in her chest, wishing his sentence was true.
"George, that's not funny, you of all people should know why." She admonished, angry he was pulling this kind of joke.
Neither of the two noticed the baby blue tendrils swirling between the two, wrapping around both of their midsections and bleeding into the flesh underneath their clothes before fading away.
"That joke will never get old. Look, at least I still have both my ears." To prove it he flicked both his earlobes.
Hermione was getting angrier, she'd deal with the sadness later. She couldn't believe George would do this, go so far for this awful prank. She had just opened her mouth to tell him so when the door to the tiny bedroom opened.
"Fred, we just got a patronus asking us if we'd seen Granger. Apparently, they're staying at Shell Cottage with Bill and Fleur, but she disappeared."
Hermione had gone still with shock. In the room were two Georges, except the one that had come through the door was clearly missing an ear. She turned back to the twin sitting next to her and a chill ran down her spine.
His attention was on George. "We should tell them she ended up here. Keep them from worrying."
George then noticed that she was awake, looking past how pale she was and obvious shock on her features, he spoke. "Granger, finally awake, I see."
He walked around to the bedside table and began rummaging through a bag of medical supplies.
"What day is it?" She whispered.
"Fourth of April, you've been out for a few hours-" Fred answered while retrieving bandages from his brother's hands.
"What year?" Hermione cut him off, her panic building. Both men looked at her curiously, stopping their actions.
"1998, Granger-"
"-how hard did you hit your head?" George finished reaching for her head to feel for a bump.
She batted him away and put her head in her hands. The crazy fool had done it, he sent her back in time. But why wasn't she the honorary guest to Voldemort right now? That was Rookwood's purpose, if his explanation on the Sands of Purpose was true. She wondered what became of that time-turner. She uncovered her face and ignored the twins' looks of confusion while reaching down and slowly pulling up her tattered white under shirt.
Both boys gasped and returned to their medical supplies with quick movements retrieving necessary potions and supplies feeling guilty that they didn't notice her injury before. Her stomach was seeping blood from various cuts made by the glass. Metal and blue sand was embedded in her skin from the force of the explosion.
As the twins worked picking pieces of the device out and healing her mangled skin, she thought about her situation. She was sent a year back in time, right before the Final Battle. Right now she was supposed to be recovering at Shell Cottage from her time at Malfoy Manor. She recalled George's statement about her going missing from her recovery bed. Did that mean things were subject to change? If she had no counterpart, she could do things differently. Bad things happen to those who meddle with time.
A particularly nasty piece being pulled out of her wound drew her out of her musings with a sharp gasp.
"Sorry, Granger." Fred said apologetically.
Fred. He was alive. She could save him. And Remus and Tonks. Colin and Lavender. Snape. But at what price? Who's to say someone else won't die in their place? One look at the auburn haired boy with both ears tells her that he deserves more than a last laugh. If no one else, she'll save him.
Fred looks up, startled to find Hermione staring at him. He quickly covers his surprise with a wink. He's delighted when she refocuses and shakes her head curtaining her face with her hair trying to hide the faint pink staining her cheeks.
George was putting on the last drops of dittany when Fred noticed something peculiar about her wound.
"Hey Granger, I didn't know you had a tattoo." He said quirking an eyebrow at her.
She gave him a confused look. "I don't know what you're talking about."
He pointed toward her stomach. She looked at his amused face and George's astonished one and then took a glance. She gasped and ran a finger along the tender, raised markings. The cuts had healed became scar tissue that was tinged with blue matching the sand of the time turner - four lines intersecting at evenly spaced intervals with different variations of tines at each of the eight ends. It began just under her breasts and stopped just above her navel making a square on her toned stomach. She had seen this symbol before in a book, but she couldn't remember where or what it meant.
Unnerved by the symbol emblazoned on her midsection, she hastily pulled her shirt down to cover it only to find that she could still see it. Her shirt was burned through in places, sandy, and had blood staining bits of it.
"Do either of you have a shirt I could borrow?" She asked with a small rosy tint on her cheeks.
"I'll go check." Fred said, noticing the issue.
After he left the room, she felt an intense pain knot in the base of her stomach. She gripped the sheets hard and breathed through her nose, closing her eyes. She felt the pain leaking into her arms and legs, then it lessened. Fred came back into the room and it was gone completely. His eyebrows were drawn together in a slight pained expression and he had one arm around his midsection and the other with a grey shirt thrown over it. Both shook their head confused by the weird sensation not noticing that other felt the same thing.
"Here," He said tossing her the grey short-sleeved shirt with 'Gryffindor' emblazoned across the back shoulders and the house sigil above the left breast. "It's from our third year, so it might fit you a bit better."
"Yes, because Freddie here got fat in his old age." George snickered.
"Oi! I still look better than your ugly mug." Fred shot back.
"Yes, but at least this ugly mug can get a date!"
"Hah! So you admit I am the better looking one!" He said pointing at his brother, a look of triumph on his face at 'winning' the age-old argument.
Hermione had a wide smile on her face with a single tear making its way down her cheek, she'd missed their banter too much. George had drawn in on himself considerably after the battle, he spent long days shut up in his dark room only coming out for meals. During these times when you did see him, he was unrecognizable. The face that usually carried so much mischief suddenly looked pale and carried such despair. You would have never thought he was a prankster had you not known him before. It gave her such joy at seeing that spark in his eye again. She tried to brush her tear away before either of them could notice but luck was not on her side.
"Hey now, what's this about?" Fred asked coming over and sitting on the edge of the bed next to her. Unknowingly sitting closer than he normally would have.
"You're not still in pain are you?" George said rummaging for another pain relief potion.
"No, no pain." She gave each a convincing smile. "You mentioned that I had disappeared from Shell Cottage?" She changed the subject quickly, looking at George. Fred looked to his twin curious as well.
George handed her a pain potion despite her meek shaking of her head. "Yeah, Fleur had gone up to check on you and your bed was empty. She was out of her mind, kept adding French phrases into her speech."
She downed the potion and thought for a minute. She couldn't go to Shell Cottage, not yet anyway. Her outfit alone would be a giant red flag that something was different. Harry and Ron were more observant than anyone gave them credit for, especially since they'd been living with her in a tent for half a year. She'd have to stay away from them for a while. Let them think that she'd put weight back on and her 'Mudblood' scar had healed in the few short weeks apart. She'd give the excuse that she was planning their break into Gringotts.
That meant staying with the twins for a while. They aren't daft, far from it. They already know something is amiss. She'd have to tell them the truth, especially since they'd be covering for her. Oddly enough, she had no problems with this. Fred and George had pulled many pranks over the years, created their entire stock of items while keeping under the Molly Weasley Radar, and have kept up Potterwatch in secret these past few months. No, she had no problem letting them know her secret, she knew they'd keep it to their dying breath. She felt a tug in the base of her stomach, she hoped it doesn't come to that.
"Could you let them know that I'm fine? Tell them I woke up and panicked not knowing where I was and apperated away. Tell them that you're very good with healing spells and can take care of me." She gave them a pleading look. "And could you tell Harry and Ron that the next one's in her vault and I'm working out how to get it?"
The twins shared a look before looking back at her with curious expressions, amusement dancing in their brown eyes.
"Now Granger," Fred began.
"-what reason would you ever have-"
"-to ask the likes of us-" Fred pointed between himself and his counterpart.
"-to cover for you?" George finished.
"The same reason I suddenly have a tattoo." She smirked.
He didn't even hesitate. "We'll do it." Fred said with a nod.
"On one condition." George looked sideways at his brother. "We get a little information."
"You tell us how you got that tattoo-"
"-and the wicked dragon hide outfit-"
"-and why you should be at Shell Cottage-"
"-and why you asked for the date-"
"-and why you were so adamant I was George when you woke up." Fred finished. George frowned, unaware of the earlier conversation.
She inwardly cringed. She was hoping to gloss over that part in the explanation. Still, she nodded her acceptance of the terms. Both boys look satisfied.
"Well I'm going to go cover for our favorite bookworm." George said walking toward the door.
Fred stood up and made to leave as well. "And I'll go make something for dinner, leave you alone to change shirts. Unless, of course you want us here-"
"Leave, you git." Hermione said blushing and waving her arm in the direction of the door. Fred laughed at her reaction and closed the door behind him.
That same knot Hermione felt earlier tightened again, just under her navel. She tried to ignore it and pulled off her ruined under shirt. The knot twisted into a tight ball and her expression grew pained. She quickly threw on Fred's old shirt and curled into the fetal position on the bed. Her fingers clutched at the sheets, it spread like magma. She crawled to the edge of the bed and tried in vain to reach a pain potion or salve or something to ease this feeling. Fire was crawling through her veins and incinerating her joints. She knocked the bag of supplies to the floor and cried out in frustration and pain.
George, having just sent off a patronus, heard the commotion and rushed through the door to find Hermione curled in on herself, arms wrapped tightly around her torso.
He rushed over to her side and asked her what happened, if her wound had opened, but she just shook her head, tears leaking out of her tightly shut eyes. He heard something crash in the kitchen but didn't think anything of it.
"Granger, tell me what to do, how do I help?" He asked panicking, trying to smooth her hair out of her face.
"F-Fred." She choked. She doesn't know what made her say his name, other than this indescribable urge to be with him. That thought unsettled her slightly, but the pain she felt at the moment took precedence.
"You want me to go get him?" She nodded frantically, that was exactly what she needed.
Though he was confused, he didn't question it. He just wanted to relieve her of whatever this was, maybe she knew something he didn't. But if his brother could help, he'd gladly retrieve him. So he jogged quickly down the short hallway.
George entered the kitchen of their flat and froze. Cast iron pans had fallen on the floor, likely the cause of the sound he heard earlier. Fred was lying in the middle of them, arms holding his stomach in a death grip. George rushed over and began asking him the same type of questions he'd asked Hermione. Only one word was his brother's answer. A name, more specifically.
"Hermione."
Saving his questions for later, George half walked, half carried his brother down the hall to the tiny bedroom. Crossing the room as swiftly as he could with the dead weight of his brother, George placed him on the bed next to Hermione and watched, mouth opened in shock, as they instinctively turned toward the other and wrapped their arms around each other in a tight embrace. It was as natural as if they'd done it their whole life.
Fred and Hermione were slowly coming out of the painful haze they'd been in previously, finally able to breathe a bit easier, and were starting to panic. Fred had no idea what was going on. One minute he was about to make dinner the next he was on the floor, stomach cramping horribly and feeling the strongest urge to be near Hermione. He was beyond confused. But with his nose buried in her sweet smelling curls, he couldn't be bothered to move. Hermione was more or less in the same boat, confused and scared beyond belief, but she felt safe and comfortable with her head tucked beneath his chin and face buried in his chest.
"Blimey Fred, the bird hasn't even been here more than a few hours and you're already in bed with her! What would Mum say?" George joked amusement and worry painting his features as he observed the two.