A/N: I know this is a short chapter, but I'm honestly just so happy I've written something. Thank you all so much for your kind words and comments, I truly cannot express to you how much it means to me. It's been so hard these last few weeks and I was absolutely floored by how amazing you guys are. The Harry Potter fandom is one of the best fandoms.

That being said, don't be too mad at Hermione!

oOo

Hermione listened as the boisterous voices from the kitchen drunkenly staggered up the stairs, laughing and stumbling as they went. The careful witch kept her breathing even and eyes closed until she heard the tell tale click of two bedroom doors reverberate down the hallway. It was deep in the night now, well past midnight, but the witch couldn't be exactly sure. Her wristwatch had stopped telling time accurately after her arrival in this timeline, a temporal enigma she had not yet worked out as there had been more pressing matters.

And it was those matters weighing heavily upon the wild haired witch's mind.

With war trained silence, Hermione pulled off the blanket Remus had laid over her and carefully stood. She had woken up from a blissful dreamless sleep, something she had begun to believe wouldn't be possible again without potions, maybe ten minutes or so before Sirius had arrived home. When she'd heard Sirius's calls for his roommates -goddamned forced roommates- Hermione had not been in the mood to socialize and had remained quiet, feigning sleep.

Determining that the boyos needed some time to themselves, Hermione had kept up the ruse and allowed the two Marauders to believe their witch was asleep.

While laying in the library, listening to the muffled sounds of friendly conversation and laughter float up through the stairs, guilt had wormed i's wicked way into Hermione's chest. Sirius's return had jolted Hermione from the comfortable web of trust she'd spun with her werewolf -no, Granger, he's not your werewolf- and into the reality of her foolishness. She should not have told Remus her story.

You're a goddamned sucker, Granger. The witch repressed a sigh and with a flick of her wand, shrunk her notes still strewn across the floor and sent them floating to the bag she had hidden behind the couch. Not her beaded bag, but an old leather thing she'd pulled out of Regulus's closet that would have to do for now. There was work to be done.

While the wizards had been down stairs unwinding, Hermione had been plotting. She was taking too long, going too slow. Her best plans and deductions had never been made with Ron and Harry close by, but instead when they were off getting into trouble and she had been left alone with her thoughts. Remus and Sirius were not only in danger by her mere presence, but were distractions from her end goal.

Destroy horcruxes. Find a way home.

She had told Remus too much-everything really- and she knew that had put him in terrible danger. As far as she knew, her presence in this timeline was unknown outside of the small circle within the Order of the Ph-Cat, but she couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this time and space traveling debacle.

The universe is chaotic, to be sure and Hermione didn't put much stock into nonsense like destiny or fate, she left that to those like Professor Trelawney with their crystal balls and tea leaves. Oh no, Hermione Granger was nothing if not logical and despite the ley lines and fairy roads the Ministry had been built upon, she knew the odds of having accidentally fallen into another reality were slim. It was far more likely that there were other powers at work here, but what those powers might be, the witch couldn't yet tell.

The business of discovering how she ended up in this time and space, and thus how to get back should have been taking higher precedence in Hermione's mind, but she had long since decided that she would not leave until every horcrux was destroyed. She wouldn't leave this world and Neville, the current Boy Who Lived, to deal with the ramifications of Tom Riddle's insanity.

Alone.

Hermione had been reckless. When she'd first arrived at 12 Grimmauld Place days ago she had thought herself mad and had thus given too much away- she was endangering everyone she came into contact with.

Sirius, James, Remus, Pomfrey McGonagall, even Fabian and Gideon Prewett. Hermione nearly groaned at the memory of her many inebriated slip ups in front of the Prewett twins.

We should have known better, we should have thought quicker. We lied under the cruciatus, we resisted torture, we should have been stronger.

Hermione had been weak and foolish. She allowed her needs for companionship and desire for friendship to overrule her better judgement. Her confessions to Remus had been an error that she was now left to correct.

Casting a silencing charm around herself, Hermione grabbed her leather bag and slung it across her shoulder. With Auror ease, she slid through the hallways like water and silently headed towards the front door. She had from the beginning been keeping her clothing in the bag, ready to leave at any moment, along with diaries and papers she had found in Regulus's room, hoping they would give her some clue to the location of the locket, if it even existed. Of course she also had a stash of food and a tent she had transfigured out of some bed sheets and a chair the other day while Remus had been sleeping.

Even before the war Hermione had been obnoxious in her thoroughness, but now she bordered on obsessive. She had no less than five beaded bags hidden around her house and office if she ever needed to "bug out" as the Muggles say, stocked with books, supplies, food, and potions. Ron had called her paranoid and maybe she was, but the only reason the Trio had survived their year on the run had been Hermione's preparedness.

The amber eyed witch stopped in front of the front door, fists gripped tight by her side. She imagined Ron's splinched arm and Harry laying "dead" by Voldemort's feet, she imagined Remus and Sirius cold and ghostly, she imagined everyone she had not saved and she willed her heart to stone.

This would be hard. Last time she went Horcrux hunting she'd had Harry to keep her sane, to comfort her, but the only life she could risk now was her own.

Steel yourself, Granger, we've got shite to do.

Sirius Black awoke to a pounding at his bedroom door. Or in his head? It was so difficult to be sure.

"SIRIUS!" The pounding continued.

Definitely at the door. Sirius moaned and ran a pale hand through his black hair. Oh sweet Circe, I forgot what it was like to drink with a werewolf. It takes fucking gallons to get that tosser drunk.

POUND. "SIRIUS FUCKING BLACK OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR."

His voice is so soft, like the chirping of tiny baby birds, no wonder the lads and lasses can't resist him.

"What, Moony?" Sirius rolled out of his bed, a tangle of sheets, and groggily slumped to his bedroom door. "This better be fucking good..." He murmured under his breath.

POUND. POUND.

"ONE FUCKING MOMENT, FOR GODRIC'S SAKE." Sirius bellowed and tapped his wand against the mahogany door, releasing the locking spells.

"OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR, BLACK!" Remus growled and it was the feral quality to his friend's voice, that gave Sirius a second of pause. Suddenly aware of the tone of his friend's voice, Sirius thought he could almost smell the unmistakable scent of fear wafting through his wards.

I haven't done anything, right? Sirius quickly ran through a list of possible offenses. No, nothing to warrant this behavior.

"SIRIUS!"

The wizard through own the door, the stench of fear all but assaulting his nasal cavities. "What the Hell, Moony?" His own voice suddenly shaky.

Remus face was white and panicked, his hair a mess of sandy brown atop his head and his green eyes wide. "She's gone."

The floor dropped from under Sirius. "What?"

"Hermione, she-she's gone!"

"Fuck."