Falling Apart

She woke up to the sounds of crickets outside her tent.

Lifting her head up, she could see the faint rays of sunlight starting to fill the morning. Her parents were still asleep next to her in this three person tent. The past few days had given her a new appreciation for wizard camping. This single room, closed in camp mess would have resulted in her killing Harry and Ron before their search for the Horcruxes ever began.

Careful not to make a ruckus, she quietly slipped out of her sleeping bag and unzipped the door to go out side. It was a brilliant morning. They had gone to the Forest of Dean. One she had grown to love—or at least, become familiar with—in her real life, her past future or whatever it was. The glowing sunrise made the allusion of glowing trees green. Mixed with the crickets was the song of a swallow perched two or three meters over. They're tent was at the top of a hill and her surroundings beautiful. Picking up one of the fallen branches beside the tent, she decided to get the breakfast started and surprise her parents. Yes, she could't use magic, but she had picked up on some tricks on the run.

As she head to the campfire ground they had structured yesterday, ten or so meters away from the tent—her mum always afraid of a spark flying—She saw that someone was waiting for her. He was taller then she remembered. Dressed in white robes Harry had described after the battle. His silver beard becoming lost in the green grass at his feet.

His clear blue eyes seemed to stab at her own, as though he was trying to determine how to place her. She halted for a moment, her summer bounce gone.

She hadn't seen him when she was at the castle. When she was at the castle, she was still somewhat convinced this wasn't real. She was disappointed with herself that she hadn't gone to seek him out. But she had never need to seek him out before. It was always Harry who did. She was usually the one urging him to go; that's why now, standing in her jim-jams with fire wood in hand, Hermione Granger wished she could just apparate to the present and leave this encounter behind her.

She resumed her walk until she was right in front of him,"Good morning Professor Dumbledore."

"Good Morning Miss Granger," he replied, the hinting of a twinkle in his eyes. "Or rather, good yesterday to you Miss Granger."

Her head popped up and she looked at him with wide, thankful eyes. The all knowing Dumbledore, Thank Merlin— "Believe me sir, I didn't—"

"You didn't mean to come and yet you are here,"His voice wasn't harsh. It wasn't judging. She had forgotten how much she appreciated the comfort that came from Dumbledore. How much they had relied on that steady hand.

He walked with her to the fire ground, where sat two chairs she didn't recognize next to a fire of emerald flames. Had he made this part of the floo network? He didn't have any ashes on his white robes. They were brilliant white. As though dirt had never touched them. He ran his hand against the air and a silver tea-set appeared. He poured her a cup, placing it in her hands. "

She shook her hand, "I'll never understand how you did that," she said inquisitively. "It doesn't seem to fit anywhere in Gamp's Rules of Transfiguration, unless—can you transfigure the molecules out of the air like that? Is that even possible?"

He gave her a kind smile, like she was a first year blurting something out in class, "Ah Miss Granger, sometimes the reasons things don't fit in are because we haven't thought that they might fit there. Much like our choices, or are travels."

"Sir—"

He held up his tea and looked at her over his rimmed glasses."You have been sent back, and yet you're choosing nothing different," he stopped, taking a drink of the tea. She mimicked him and did likewise. It was delicious, and more calming than anything else. But the calm disappeared as Dumbledore resumed talking."Miss Granger, it is not well to play the part of a god."

There was a crack and next to him appeared an additional chair. There sat Mad-Eye Mood on her left. He was in the clothes he wore the night he flew above Surrey with Mundungus. He looked as though he too was looking at Dumbledore, but farther in the distances. His magic eye staying fixed on something in the distance as well. It was as though he didn't see her.

Another crack, and there was Dobby on her right, in a fresh pressed pillow didn't beam at her like he normally did. He too was looking straight in the distance as well.

Crack, here sat Lupin and Tonks were on Mad-Eye's left, holding hands, the pink in their cheeks the only thing different then when she found them in them in the Great Hall. Crack—Collin Creevey, camera in hand. Crack—Lavender Brown before Greyback ripped her to shreds. Crack—Nigel, little Nigel.

"Nor does it do well to play the part of a meddling god, Miss Granger," a final crack and in the chair next to Dumbledore, directly across from him, sat Fred Weasley. He was looking directly at her, the rising sun causing his hair to look a flame. He was different than the rest. He could see her. They were facing each other. He could recognize her, the awkward scene around them. He was acknowledging her, looking confused "Hermione—"

A large crack rang from her ears silencing Fred. She shielded her eyes, thinking perhaps there was something coming out of the fire. When the noise had passed she opened and saw the sheer horror of what remained.

In front of her, in a circle, was nine marble tombs. The names of those interred staring at her as though she was an unwelcome spectator. The glow of light that had set Fred's now illuminated the gold name that marked his tomb.

"It does not do well to do nothing" the voice spoke from behind her as a final crack echoed again.

((*))

Her heart raced as she looked around her tent. Her parents were gone. She could hear their voices outside talking. The tent was bright and hot—it was warmer then it had been while she was dreaming. It was just a dream—she told herself. It was just a dream—

But she didn't know what to do anymore. She didn't know what she was supposed to do.

They had been camping for a little over a week. Skipped rocks, going on hikes. Enjoying a momentary get away. Around this time last go around, she had been back at the Burrow under the consistent parental watch of Molly Weasley. Here, she was in the relaxed company of her blissfully unaware muggle parents. It was almost irreverent how unaware her parents were. As though they were laughing like kids in the middle of a funeral service.

But they would be headed home soon, and then the spell would be broken and she'd have to think of her lot again. The radio channel they were getting out here had reported storms to the south last night, and Hermione had a growing feeling that it wasn't simply a storm.

She put on a jumper and got out of the tent. Crookshanks looked at her curiously. That was another thing. Even her damn cat knew something was a foot. She had been suspicious of her since she got out of the Hospital. She still wasn't persuaded that her cat didn't suspect her of something. She started walking towards the distance where she had seen Dumbledore. She could here her mom at the camp fire waving her on, "Morning sweetheart, we've made breakfast," her dad was grinning over the sausages he had managed not to burn.

She sat on the stool her parent had set up by the fire. "Dad, I need—"

"Some eggs, I agree. But someone thought they'd crack so its only sausage and toast for us," her father interrupted, winking at his wife. "Come on I have a granola bar if this is rubbish."

"Dad I need—"

"Some food I know sweets, We'll pick something out when we leave today." Mr Granger answered again, "Good Heavens Caroline, you'd think we'd starved the girl all week.

Hermione lifted her head up bewildered, "We're going home?"

"You're mum forgot she made an appointment for tomorrow," Mr Granger replied, rolling the sausage around the pan, and taking some of the not so burnt ones for Hermione's plate. "Woke me up in the middle of the night reminding me."

Hermione took her breakfast, "Hang on, tomorrow's Sunday. The office isn't open Sunday."

"It's not a patient," her mum said between bites, "Professor McGonagall wanted to stop by tomorrow morning and chat."

Hermione couldn't not envision her emerald robed, hair in a bun, bifocals Professor stopping in on her suburban street. "What do you mean?"

"She wrote before we went on vacation. I forgot about it as soon as I responded. She wanted to meet earlier but I said we were going on Holiday."

A wizarding war going on and her mother tells the woman who could save their lives to reschedule due to family holiday. Bless.

But it was unfolding around her. Professor McGonagall hadn't come around a second time. In the three weeks she was home the summer before her 6th year, Professor McGonagall never made any calls on the Grangers. Not that she could remember. And Hermione would remember.

"Did she say why she was coming?"

"Follow up on that injury of yours," Her mum answered, pulling a carton of juice out of the food locker, " Which reminds me, have you taken your medicine today?"

"I'm nearly off the last one," Hermione sighed. It was the particularly nasty one.

Her father looked up as he put more sausages on the fire, "What happened sweetheart, you were vague and McGonagall didn't include anything in the letter other than she was interested in a follow up."

"There was an accident," she explained, "At school we had a club called the DA—Defense Association—it was a club we made up to study and practice for our exams. One day we just got too close and I wasn't paying attention—accidentally got bumped into a cocktail of spells and I woke up in the Hospital Wing."

It was the same story she had rehearsed before and just like last time, her parents complied. "There weren't any teachers?" her mum asked, looking at her warily "Surely they should have been there—"

"It was more student lead." she explained, picking at her breakfast. It was a good thing they were going home. Their food rations, though still better then when she went camping, were definitely headed in that direction.

Her father looked at the burnt breakfast remains and threw them to the fire. "You know, if you were in a normal school, that'd look good on a university application"

"Do wizards have universities?"her mother spoke up, "Maybe something closer to home? What if you studied for your A-Levels anyway and-"

Hermione sighed, distracted or now. Her parents would go on about universities now for the next couple of hours. They'd even volunteer to send her pamphlets when she was at school. She had never had time for them. They'd say something about cleaning up, continue talking about universities for the next two hours on a hike around the lake, return to their camp site and pack up and how they'd stop at the little place they'd passed when they first drove into town.

She looked into the distance, settling everything into compartments in her mind, while trying to grapple what the next step would be. Professor McGonagall coming to speak with her, that's new. She could ask what to do with her family. She could ask about time turners and the lore around them. If anyone knew it was McGonagall. But could she tell her about the accident and not be locked away in St. Mungos? How could she convince her to see the headmaster?

"Hermione, lets clean up, wash up and take one last hike eh?"

If only everything was as predictable as her father and his camping trips.

((*))

When her mother had said Minerva McGonagall was coming to visit, she assumed she'd be opening the door for her teacher in her usual appearance. Even when she came to explain the Letter and Hogwarts as a first year, she had appeared in emerald robes, hair tucked in a bun. Only her familiar hat missing.

But today, when she opened the door, Professor McGonagall was wearing a navy skirt and billowing cream top, the arms loose making her look as though she had just taken a stroll on the boardwalk in the twenties, not the halls of Hogwarts.

Her hair was still up, but the bun more relaxed. Professor McGonagall smiled, exchanged pleasantries with her mother, and then came into the sitting room, Hermione following behind them.

"Not much has changed since I was first here," she acknowledged, looking at the room. It was true little had ever changed in the Granger home. This room still had the same wallpaper as when they brought Hermione home from the hospital. She walked towards one of the walls that had a few family pictures—Picking Hermione up at Kings Cross her first year, their vacation to France in her third, the most recent a skiing picture before she disappeared last Christmas—her teacher looked at them and smiled warmly, "Well, somethings have changed, but not many."

"How are things at School?" Hermione asked, pouring four cups of tea. Professor McGonagall sat down, looking at the Grangers. "Its better now that the Headmaster is back. We're waiting to see how much the new Minister will try to interfere this year."

"Oh yes how did the election pan out?" Her father asked excitedly. Evan Ganger was a man of no political interest, but he was a man who tried desperately to understand and be familiar with his daughter's other world. Even if he was sadly always misinformed by said daughter, "Weasley's man pull through?"

Professor McGonagall looked at Hermione oddly, and for a minute she wondered if McGonagall was the mind reader Dumbledore had been. " I suppose you could say that. Rufus Scrimegour will hopefully prove a better than minister than Fudge," she seemed to purse her lips as she said his name, "but only time will tell. Mr. Weasley did seem pleased to know Fudge wouldn't be staying around."

"Hermione was telling us there were to be elections this summer," Mrs. Granger interjected, coming into the sitting room with an old tea set. "You're government's set up similar to ours?"

"Yes, completely similar down to the level of our incompetence" Her parents laughed and Hermione held back an eye roll. "Is everyone doing well? Hermione asked, "i haven't gotten much mail."

"Everyone is doing fine, the question they're asking is how you're feeling Miss Granger," McGonagall answered, looking her pupil down, "Not as sore and stiff as when you left Hogwarts?"

"I'm doing better, all of the Potions Madam Pomfrey sent me home with are almost gone," Hermione admitted. In full honestly, what wasn't gone this morning was getting thrown down the sink tomorrow morning. She knew she was fine. These last two potions were nothing but a calming draught and sleep aide. Maybe not down the sink—she could use them on the horcurx hunt again.

McGonagall looked at her face as though she was trying to nail something down, some detail that may be escaping her, "No nightmares, no flashbacks?"

Hermione shrugged, "None out of the ordinary."

The Professor lifted up the tea cup and then set it down again, "Good. Molly and Arthur are hoping you're still planning on visiting them this summer, Harry's already arrived."

That can't be—I beat him there my sixth year, how can he already be there?

"Our vacation ran long I'm afraid," Mr. Granger shrugged, leaning back into the chair. "Not often I get to take my girls camping."

"Sweetheart, the way you cook when we do go, you wonder why we're hesitant to have a follow up," Mrs. Granger chuckled, "Hermione, you can write to Ron this week and tell him you're parents are done holding you hostage. If Harry's there it's only a matter of time before them come looking for trouble to get into."

"It's always those three," McGonagall sighed, her parents chuckling and Hermione squirming on the chase."I'll let Molly know. Tonks has an assignment in the area, we can coordinate with her and she'll escort you to the Burrow."

"Tonks is in Essex?" Hermione asked suddenly. This was another new development. Tonks hadn't been here the second time. Or maybe she was? You didn't know—you just assumed she was watching Harry. Maybe there was someone else? But who was the other wizard or witch in Essex?

"Just a brief assignment, It's coming to an end soon," she dismissed, "Now before I go, Mr and Mrs Granger, I want to urge you to be careful in the coming weeks."

Oh Merlin—is she telling them?

"Careful?" her Father started.

"Why?" her Mother asked, looking at Hermione, " has something happened?"

Professor McGonagall shot Hermione a quick look that told her she should have told her parents the second round as she had in the first, perhaps sooner. On the train ride home. "There's a dark wizard on the run. He has a band of followers who have a violent history towards both our kinds. It would be in your best interest to be wary of any suspicious characters. If you'd like i can have a charm put on the house and your office. It's not the most protective charm, but its a level of disillusionment that should prove useful if necessary."

She didn't even need to ask. Professor McGonagall was one set ahead of her. "Is Hermione ok?" asked her Father. "She-the school, she'll be safe there?"

"She will be," Professor Mcgonagall said without missing a step, "and the Weasley's are well aware of whats going on and have filled in Harry and Ron. Rest assured, that the staff at Hogwarts will do everything they can to protect the students."

Mr and Mrs Granger looked at each other for a moment, Hermione's mum finally asking "Would it be better if we enrolled her in a normal school this year?"

"No—" Hermione started, "Mum Please-"

Her mother continued, "But if there's a threat—Hermione's from a normal family, she wouldn't be a target. She would blend in well at a normal school, she'd be a little behind in her studies but—no one would—"

Professor McGonagall shot Hermione another look, "There could and would find a way Mrs. Granger. Your daughter has great talent in magic and it's a known fact. It wouldn't take long for them to find her and then others would be at risk to. Hogwarts is safe. There hasn't been any hostile action towards the school in over 500 years."

Just give it three—

"We'll have to talk about it—"Hermione shot a look of desperation at McGonagall.

"If you'd like we can resume the correspondence we had her first year. We'll keep you informed at all times."

"No need for that Professor," her father answered, his hand taking that of his wife's. She was almost convinced he'd say she'd be going to school as a muggle. End of conversation. But then her father said something that surprised her. "Hermione's a witch, she belongs with her people. If Hogwarts is where Hermione will be safest, Hogwarts it will be."

((*))

Her parents where in the kitchen working on lunch after Professor McGonagall had left. She could hear them talking in low tones, but she took the door and trailed her Professor.

"Professor McGonagall!" she called out jogging to her teacher. She was halfway to the lamppost. Why she hadn't apparated in Hermione's house, she'd never know—quite frankly she didn't care. She felt like she was harboring some lethal secret, and she supposed in some ways she was.

Professor McGonagall stopped and turned around, "Is there something the matter Miss Granger?"

"I was just hoping to have a word," she said, motioning over to the bench that sat beside the Granger's front door, "If you have a moment before your next appointment."

The Professor turned around and returned to the Granger yard. Just a strip of grass behind a fence her dad had built when she was younger. Sitting on the bench she looked at her pupil, "I would be lying if I didn't tell you I'm surprised you haven't told your parents whats going on in our world."

"I didn't want them to worry," she lied. You did things right the first time around, a voice raddled in her brain, you weren't nearly as sentimental. You were practical. You were in survival mode. You were fearless. She dismissed the voice. "Besides, you heard mum; if they knew how bad it was they wouldn't let me go back. I'd be enrolled in a muggle school. And that would only put others at risk."

"That is also true," McGonagall sighed, leaning back into the bench."And You-know-who had his followers attacked many a muggle school for that reason the first time he rose to power." Fidgeting in her pocket she pulled out a silver canister that looked like the Dilluminator. Pointing it in the direction of the window behind them, a ray of white light hit it, sealing itself to the edges. "No one will be able to over hear from the house Miss Granger. Whatever you have to tell me, you can do so in complete privacy."

Her fingers began to fidget herself. Then a different voice came into mind, This is ridiculous. You are Hermione Granger, a time traveling, Death Eater Battling, witch who is the brightest of your age. You can do this! a voice she recognized as a Weasley twin coached from within, "I don't know where to begin."

"The beginning I believe," McGonagall coaxed, "I believe that's where one starts things."

"Right—well, there was an accident," Hermione began.

Professor McGonagall nodded, albeit confused, "In the Department of Mysteries—"

"No," Hermione interrupted, taking in a deep breath. "No, it was in Switzerland."

McGonagall was looking at her as though she had said something silly, this was the look usually reserved for Ron, or Seamus— "Hermione, you haven't been to Switzerland since Christmas—"

"It wasn't that trip Professor, it was more recent—"

"We've had people trailing you Miss Granger, you haven't left for the continent since Christmas."

"What?!" This was news to her, the present her; she had guessed at time but never—"Who—Why are people trailing me?"

Professor McGonagall looked around and sighed, "Since the return of You-Know-Who, the Order thought it would be—prudent—to have a watch over some of the more vulnerable witches and wizards. As a very talented witch, who is also very good friends to Harry Potter and is also a Muggleborn, you seemed the prime candidate for a watch. Rest assured, It's been Tonks and I watching, and always from a distance."

"i don't know if I like that better or worse."

"Remus Lupin also volunteered," McGonagall explained looking into the distance, "But he's watching a little Muggleborn in Kent, he sends his regards though. Most of the Order is watching Potter, but there are others that need watching after as well."

Hermione had a swelling of gratitude in her heart towards her teacher, "Thank you Professor."

"Now tell me about this accident—"

"We were in Switzerland. And I—Professor I know I shouldn't have wondered off but I did. Harry and Ron were in the beginners class and I just needed some time alone—"

"Harry Potter has never left the Britain Miss Granger," McGonagall interrupted again. "And Mr. Weasley has only done so for Travel to Egypt. Neither have seen Switzerland."

"They do though," Hermione felt exhausted, "Professor, I was on Christmas Holiday in 1999, there was an avalanche. I woke up in the Hospital Wing with Fred Weasley telling me it was 1996."

Hermione had seen Professor McGonagall sit like a statue before, but it was usually in class in her animagus form. It was a different thing to see her sit so still as a human. "When I came to this address six years ago, who answered the front door?" the Professor asked carefully, testing her identity.

"I did, You came at a quarter past ten and I asked if you were my new piano instructor. Now Professor—"

"How is this possible? How did this happen? You would've been 19?" McGonagall took a deep, calming breath. "When the avalanche occurred did you try apparating—or perhaps a defensive charm? The Bubble head Charm—"

"I didn't have my wand."

"You didn't have your wand?" Professor McGonagall gasped. she was unraveling like her bun. "Why dare I ask, not?"

"Because the War is over—Harry—"

"Don't tell me Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall insisted. She looked pale, like she could be ill, "There can't be spoilers like this. I know too much already—Why," Hermione could already hear the multitudes of why that would stem from this confession, the shadows of anger, of confusion of regret "Why didn't you tell us when you woke up in the Hospital Wing? Why wait until now?"

"I thought it was a dream," She didn't have the will to say she thought she was dead, " I wake up, and there's Fred Weasley at my bedside—"

"Why would it be a dream to have Mr Weasley at your side?" the Professor interrogated, her eyebrows up "Is he not well in 1999?"

For one so keen on Spoilers… "He and George are in America," she lied quickly, "As soon as the war ended, they branched out with some American Jokeshop and are promoting products in Canada and the States. I haven't seen them since the war ended."

A crack of a smile hit McGonagall's face, "So I go from fighting a dark war to a war on the Weasley products," the smile grew, and then returning to Hermione it dimmed again. "If you didn't cast a charm, how did you come back? This far?"

"I thought it might have something to do with the Time Turner charm from my bracelet—"

"Miss Granger, all Time Turners were destroyed when you and your classmates had your escapades in the Department of Mysteries. It takes nearly a ten years to create a Time Turner it's simply not possible.," Professor McGonagall sighed, "And even if there were magical properties to his charm, you'd had gone back minutes, not years. This is too powerful. "

"Is it possible I'm in a coma and this is figuratively all in my head?"she asked, half hopeful she was on to something with her last bridge of reason.

"No Miss Granger, I don't think so," Mcgonagall answered gravely. " When young witches or wizards are under threat of death, their magic can sometimes go into a survival mode, but this seems to strong for even that. I'll have Poppy look up magical comas in her books, but we haven't seen the likes of those in a while. And never one of this magnitude."

"Can I speak to Dumbledore, I need to warn him what's coming—"

McGonagall's face went white this time. "I'll brief the Headmaster, but Hermione you mustn't tell anyone anything. Do you remember the conversation we had when I first gave you the Time Turner your third year?"

Her third year Professor McGonagall had summoned her to her office to get her schedule. She had sat across from her and explained, very much as she was doing now the dangers of meddling with time. She and said something to the effect that there were reasons to go back. Points that were not fixed —that were fluid. School was one of them. Pursuit of education was one of them. To correct past events or meddle in what could not be solved the first time however, the Professor had explained, was not one of them.

She nodded and then stopped, "But Professor, what if I can save—"

"Horrible things happen to wizards who mess with time," Professor McGonagall swore, she took Hermione's wrist and clasped it tight. "It is nothing short of a miracle that we don't have two Hermione Grangers at once. Although it's a pity, I could at least count on one of them to keep this one in check."

"But Professor don't you see, I've seen how the war ends, I know what to do!" she freed her wrist, "Think of the lives I can save! If you only knew who we lo—"

"Magic always comes with a price Miss Granger," McGonagall reasoned, her eyes still fixed on Hermione "And while you think you are finding a bargain in one year, you'll lose it all in the next." She looked at Hermione, "We'll check with the Headmaster at school. It may be in your best interests to modify your memory. A Pensive probably—" she looked over Hermione, "Have you deviated from your timeline any?"

"When I realized that it was real, I—I remembered what the war did to my family. I just wanted to enjoy a few more weeks with them. Last time around I beat Harry to the Burrow by a few days."

"And he's already been there a week," she clucked her tongue, "I'll write to Molly. It's imperative we get your timeline back on track. I'll speak with Dumbledore, he'll know what to do. In the mean time—" she looked down to where Hermione was sitting, a firm, chilling look as though she was about to take points from Gryffindor "Stick to your timeline."

There was a slight pop and Hermione regretted sharing her secret almost immediately. She had been hopeful. The dream Dumbledore had chastised her for not being willing to save lives. The real McGonagall chastised her for thinking this was a chance to save lives. Modify memories? Surely— no. No she wouldn't let that happen. There had to be some reason why she was sent back. And she alone would figure it out.

She stayed on the bench for a few minutes. The charm faded off, she could her her parents moving in the house. Her mum was laughing at something her dad had said. The hell with what she had said of timelines, she had gotten an extra week with her parents, she'd take that. If she had to go through it all again, she'd at least have that. The more she thought of McGonagall's words the more she was torn. Was she right? if the original her—the sixth year Hermione—had been sitting with them, would she be on McGonagall's side? Or would she agree with the present her? She'd probably try and give me detention, she thought to herself. She imagined what Harry and Ron would say at the scene, two Hermione's facing off at each other. But if she knew—of if any of them only knew—

A familiar snowy owl was coming on the Horizon and she gave a wicked smile. She knew exactly what she would do next.

AN: Another published sans beta. This is much longer than I originally intended. Also, thank for all the people that asked Where Dumbledore was previously. I hope this helped. All feedback is welcomed and appreciated...and i promise next chapter will have more Fred...

Until next time, KH