When Hermione was six years old she read The Hobbit, the Lord of Rings Trilogy and The Silmarillion. For the entirety of the year she did nothing but go to school, do her homework, eat, sleep, and read. Her father had been so concerned he'd actually suggested they take her to a therapist, but Hermione's mother had laughed and waved him off. Let her read, she had said. Let her be.
A child of six reading any Tolkien novel is quite a feet but to read nearly all of them is another beast entirely.
Despite reading at a college level in primary school, Hermione came across parts of the novels that she didn't quite understand and this drove her absolutely mad. To not understand, for Hermione Jean Granger, was one of the most cardinal sins, but worse than that was to content oneself with ignorance. So over the next two years she reread Lord of the Rings and The Silmarillion three times- The Hobbit had been too easy- and created a notebook thats sole purpose was to catalogue, color code, and highlight the entire history of Eä in a manner in which she could study.
Hermione then took it upon herself to learn Sarati, the most common Elvish script. And then she learned Khuzdul, the language of the dwarves (because why not?), which actually came in quite handy during Ancient Rune lessons.
The point is, Hermione hated not knowing. She hated not knowing what was going on in an invented fantasy world and she hated not knowing what was going on in her own real world.
So the last twelve hours had been particularly hard on the amber eyed witch.
As Hermione lay in the bed that she had been informed once belonged to Regulus Black and now belonged to her for the duration of her stay at Grimmauld Place, she stared at a black ceiling and for the thousandth time, re-evaluated her situation.
Hermione began a mental notebook to catalogue, color code, and highlight important information that would help her understand this bizarre new world and her -hopefully brief- tenure in it. In her mind she began with a category of similarities and differences this reality shared with her own.
Similarities: all the characters are the same, Hogwarts exists, the Order exists (kinda), chocolate frogs exist.
Hermione popped a chocolate frog into her mouth from the bag that lay on her chest. Remus had given her the candy insisting that if she wouldn't sit down and eat lunch with them ("lunch" being a half eaten week old pizza and a bag of stale crisps) then she needed something in her stomach. After Hermione took a look inside the pantry at Grimmauld Place, shut the door in horror and then peeked in again, Remus had grabbed a bag of chocolate frogs from the backpack he had brought from his flat and handed them to her with a smile. A smile she was quickly beginning to treasure.
Similarities: Remus Lupin has the same smile, Remus Lupin exists, Sirius Black exists, Grimmauld Place exists, spiders exist
From her spot on the bed Hermione noticed a cobweb in the corner of the room and shuddered as a giant black spider hung idly from a long strand of silk. Where was Kreacher? Grimmauld Place was a mess and Sirius Black was in desperate need of a house elf. Hermione scrunched her face, that was by far the most insane thought that had crossed her mind since she'd arrived in this time. She felt a little guilty for even thinking it, honestly.
Differences: no Kreacher? Potters are alive, Sirius is not in Azkaban, McGonagall is head of the Order
McGonagall. Hermione's thoughts floated back to her conversation with the -apparent- head of the Order and the events that lead the wild haired witch to the her current situation. She thought about the crazed look in Barty Crouch Jr.'s eye as he raised his wand to curse Harry and instinctively Hermione clutched at her own wand, grunting in frustration at the emptiness in her hand.
The speed in which the Headmistress had ushered the trio out of her office, into the Floo, and back to Grimmauld Place had spun Hermione's head. She'd barely had time enough to remind the older witch about her confiscated wand. McGonagall had insisted she'd bring it back the next morning, but for now it was probably best if Hermione settled in without the ability to "perform hexes she might regret later."
Which was ridiculous. Hermione never regretted a hex. Or at least, she had recently decided, not one cast at Sirius Black.
Or one cast at Crouch or any other Death Eater for that matter.
Similarities: Death Eaters.
Everything here was different and yet exactly the same. People had swapped places, events were altered, but a megalomaniac sadist had still drawn a following to him in an attempt to rule Britain and, eventually, the world. Silver masked nightmares still patrolled the darkness with blood on their minds and venom in their souls. Hermione was still in a war. Had the war ever ended? Even in her own time-reality? Whatever.- Ron had insisted the war was not over and that the Death Eater hordes remained.
He probably hadn't been wrong.
No, scratch the house-elf comment, that was the most insane thought that had crossed Hermione's mind since her arrival. Ronald Weasley right about something? She'd never admit it.
At least not out loud.
We should have left him in the forest. He did help Harry destroy that Horcrux though...Fine! We should have left him in the forest after he helped Harry destroy the Horcrux.
Horcruxes. Hermione had thought she was done with Horcruxes. She thought she was done with snakes, and rings, and cups, and diadems, and lockets, and-
"The locket!" Hermione sprang from the bed like a flash of lightening, all speed and no control. Her foot tangled in the silk sheets -silk is too slippery a fabric for a bed!- and in her haste to detangle herself, Hermione slipped and fell to the floor with a resounding thump.
Motherfucker! Hermione clenched her teeth and grabbed her ankle as pain shot up her leg. Get ahold of yourself, Granger!
The door swung open and Remus rushed in, wand raised. "What-what's happening! I heard...oh." He looked down at Hermione's face, red with embarrassment on the floor. "What are you doing?"
"I was rather curious about how the room looked from this vantage point." Hermione drawled, rubbing her ankle on the ground.
Remus chuckled and helped Hermione back onto the bed. "You're a strange witch, Hermione."
Dear Remus, you still have no idea.
The wizard noticed Hermione rubbing her ankle. "Hurt yourself while studying the floor, did you?" He sat down on the bed, but left a good foot between himself and Hermione.
Hermione shot him a good-natured glare. "A bit, I'll be fine. I've seen worse."
"Yes." Remus remarked soberly. "Reckon I've seen you take worse actually."
Hermione stiffened. She didn't know what to say to that, so instead she changed the subject. "Where's dear old Sirius? I see only you came rushing to my aid."
"Oh, he's got work. He normally works nights, y'see, and sleeps in the day." Remus chuckled to himself, starring at the floor. "Quite nocturnal our Sirius. He comes out with the stars." The werewolf motioned to the ceiling, as if to the stars.
Hermione gave a small laugh at this and Remus turned his green eyes too her. She was finding she quite enjoyed when Remus's eyes were on her. His gaze did not make her feel uncomfortable or judged like McGonagall's or positively livid with frustration like Sirius's, instead it simply took her in and accepted her. It was a strange thing to find acceptance in a mess like this.
"So how are you liking your room?" Remus asked. "It was Sirius's brother's, Reggie. Regulus." Remus looked around. "Rather dark in here I think."
Hermione hadn't paid attention to the room except for the ceiling she'd been staring at for some time and the deep green silk sheets on the bed. Her amber eyes flicked about. Remus was right, it was dark. Black ceiling, dark grey walls, green drapes over the one window, and a fine layer of dust over the furniture Hermione assumed was antique.
"I don't think Sirius has been in here in years." Remus commented.
"Why not?" Hermione probed.
"Oh, s'pose it reminds him too much of Regulus." The werewolf sighed. "It's a bit complicated the whole thing."
"What happened to him? To Regulus?" Hermione feigned ignorance. "Did he move out?"
"Oh, umm no." Remus shifted on the bed. "No he didn't move out. It's rather odd and rather sad actually. Regulus disappeared a few years ago, before Sirius inherited the house. Not a word or a trace, just vanished. Didn't take anything with him either."
Hermione bit her bottom lip to keep from smiling. Maybe Regulus had found the locket! Where would it be? Hermione's brain flipped onto hyper drive. Who had the locket before, in her time? Kreacher. Kreacher had the locket because he'd gone with Regulus to the cave to retrieve it.
Hermione narrowed her eyes. Sirius Black didn't have a house-elf.
"That is sad for Sirius, to lose his brother." Hermione's sympathy wasn't entirely feigned, but it was more for Regulus than for Sirius. As far as Hermione knew, in her time Sirius had never gotten along with his estranged younger brother, whole Regulus had lost his life in an attempt to secure Voldemort's demise. She pitied the latter more than the former.
"They didn't talk much at the end, but yes, Sirius didn't take it well." Remus ldidn't meet Hermione's gaze and the witch briefly wondered what "didn't take it well" could mean when applied to Sirius Black.
Hermione waited for Remus to continue, but after a few moments of silence decided to ask. "Do you think Sirius would mind if I cleaned up a bit in here?" Hermione was hoping she could get Remus to mention the house elves without her having to bring it up. "I'm afraid I'm rather erm, allergic to-to dust."
"Oh Merlin's sake, I'm sorry!" Remus suddenly jumped from the bed. "I didn't even think-of course you shouldn't live in this filth. I've just grown accustomed to it. "
"Oh, no!" Hermione stood, waving her hands. "No, don't worry, it's really not a big deal. Growing up my two best friends were boys- I've gotten used to mess and dirt, trust me."
Remus looked around the room and then back at Hermione. "Still... this is unacceptable. Sirius used to have a house-elf, I'm not sure what happened to the old bugger."
There it is! "Oh? Sirius ha-"
"And your clothes!" Remus exclaimed.
Excuse me?
"Wh-what? My clothes?" Hermione looked down at herself. Her black jumper, dark jeans, and black ankle boots had seen better days, but there was no need to be yelling about them. Wait, where the hell are my Auror robes?
"You've been wearing them since Sirius found you."
Hermione sniffed her shoulder. I mean, not freshly laundered, but nothing to go crazy about either. I haven't exactly had a chance to change or shower, thank you very much.
"I mean ahhh, do you-do you have any other clothes...?" Remus asked, rubbing the back of his neck. Hermione's dark face flushed and she folded her arms across her chest.
Crap. Crapity crap crap.
"Ah well, I mean, yes." Back at my flat. That might not even exist, because I'm fairly certain it was built in the 90s. The admission slipped past Hermione's lips before she got a chance to really consider how to respond. Quietly she muttered, "Or at least, I did."
"I went back to my flat to get my things and we didn't even think- do you live in London? Could we Floo to your place and grab some things for you?" Remus asked.
Crap. Crapity crap crap. Go ahead, explain this, Granger. Well, Remus y'see, I am a time and space traveler, from a different reality, and all my clothing exists in this different reality. As do my toiletries.
Instead she said. "No."
"No you don't live in London or no we can't Floo to your place?" Remus was looking at her strangely, his green eyes concerned.
"Ahh both." Hermione spoke slowly, but her brain was rapidly forming words and syllables that would answer Remus's questions without giving her away. "My home is...gone."
The Brightest Witch of Her Age, ladies and gentlemen, and that's what she thinks up. Gone.
"Gone?"
"Gone."
Remus opened his mouth to say more, stopped for a moment, and then inquired. "What does that mean exactly?"
"Well er, it means...that..." Hermione was scrambling for a lie. C'mon Granger, you lied under torture to one of the most sadistic, ruthless witches in history. You can think of something. But instead, the word 'gone' rooted itself into Hermione's brain and spread its roots out into the soil of her soul.
Gone.
Her flat was gone. Her clothes were gone. Crookshanks was gone. Her friends were gone. Her life was gone and there was no certainty that she would ever get it back. Despair settled over her heavily and Hermione slumped her shoulders under the weight of it.
When Hermione looked back at Remus, she was aware that her eyes were growing wet and her mouth was trembling, and Remus looked back at her with such confused guilt and pity that she wanted to crawl into herself. Hermione hugged herself and took a step back, considering what she might say to make Remus leave for a while so she could be alone again.
As the words of dismissal were forming on her tongue, Remus suddenly rushed to her and in seconds Hermione was engulfed by his towering form. His arms, thicker than she remembered her Lupin's arms to be, wrapped around her and pulled her to him and Hermione almost let loose the torrent of sorrow inside her.
"I'm sorry." He whispered soothingly into the top of her hair. "You don't need to tell me. I shouldn't have asked."
For a few heartbeats Hermione soaked him in, breathing deeply his scent. Remus smelled of parchment and sandalwood and something else Hermione couldn't recognize.
Hermione finally pulled away from Remus, albeit reluctantly, and rubbed her eyes. "It's fine, it's fine." Get it together, Granger. Lately she seemed to be telling herself that every few minutes it seemed.
The witch and wizard looked away from each other, an awkwardness settling between them. Remus scratched his nose and shifted his weight from foot to foot and Hermione ran a hand through her unruly hair, realizing how long it'd been since she brushed it.
Godric, I probably do look a right mess.
"Y'know." Suddenly Remus was smiling. "I have an idea."
Hermione raised an eyebrow.
"Let's get outta here." Remus grabbed Hermione's hand and pulled her through the door.
"What, wait!" The witch tried to pulled back, but Remus held fast. "Where are we going?"
"Hermione, you can't wear the same jumper and jeans every day." Remus stated plainly as he continued to pull her. "We'll just stop by the store and get you some things."
"Is that safe?" Hermione asked, though she couldn't deny a getting a clean pair of knickers would be more exciting than she'd previously realized. "Sirius seemed fairly insistent we stay here. Even Hogwarts wasn't safe enough for him."
Remus snorted. "Well keeping you safe is my job too and I don't think Diagon Alley will be a problem. Besides," Remus flashed her a crooked grin. "What dear Sirius doesn't know won't hurt him. He usually hits the pub after his shift and he won't be home for hours, that gives us plenty of time."
A smile bloomed across Hermione's face and she hurried with Remus to the Floo. Going under Sirius's nose and getting a pair of clean socks sounded like a win-win in Hermione's grimoire.
oOo
A/N: Thank you for the reviews and the follows and the favs! You guys are awesome. Someone pointed out that Hermione was biting her cheek a lot and I wanted to say thank you for pointing that out, really! I don't have a beta and even if I re-read these chapters twenty times before posting them I inevitably miss stuff. So thank you for letting me know and being super polite about it! I do appreciate it. Maybe one day I'll have a beta who can help me out? I'm new to the writing fanfic game, I'm not sure how everything works, so we'll see!
If you ever notice any inconsistencies or plot errors, please let me know, but be polite about it. I'm going back and editing my earlier chapters with a fresh eye, but like I said, sometimes things slip between the cracks.