Note: A second try at a Time-Travel fiction on my part. Im not going to ask you to excuse my writing or any such things. All i ask is that before you past judgement, realize that it's not likely you've gone your whole life reading books and absolutely loving the first chapters, hm? Anyhow, this is a revamp of an old story i had up here. Changed the plot around, decided to give it another go since i like where i was originally heading with it. I have no one to BETA, so if you'd like to help with that please email me and let me know.
Another note: This story, although resembles some of the same plot J.K Rowling had going on, most of it is A.U. I've read all seven books, and i realize that a lot of what i have going to happen wont be necessary as to following the actual plot. But this, ladies and lads, is why we have imaginations. : Everything OFFICIALLY Harry Potter related belongs to J.K Rowling, obviously.
We shall start with the present ... work our way to the past and go forth from there, leading us right back to where we laid down the first sentence. But whether there is any truth of what is past, present and future by then, is all up to the characters in the story.
Chapter 1
Hermione looked down at the young boy, just a mere boy, laying down unconscious at her feet. He was worn, and tired. He was lost and confused and yet as she looked at him it was hard to think of what he was to become in the future. What life he was soon to be leading, and the decisions he would make that would leave such a deep scar on her life and those she cared about. Severus Snape would become such a strong fuel to her hatred of Dark Wizards, and yet, as she continued to look at him she couldn't help but think that it was all wrong. There was no comprehension on her part that this gentle and meek boy could ever turn into such a monster.Bending her knees down, Hermione felt her eyes well with tears. As forth comings of what lay ahead tempted to evade her every thought, she subtly pushed them back. Ignoring them and almost convincing herself that maybe, just maybe, they wouldn't be true. They just couldn't be. Twisting her body so that she was now half laying on the ground next to the unconscious 17 year old named Severus Snape, she rested her head on his chest. His heart beat was light, yet beating rather quickly. She knew that he was safe, and not too badly hurt. There was only so much she could do though without getting them into too much trouble. She felt guilty for just laying there beside him, but it would be dangerous to do otherwise.
Looking up for just a moment, Hermione laid a light kiss into the boys chin. He had, after all, just risked his life for her.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------They didn't have long. Maybe a few weeks at the very most. Even then, they would still be pushing their limit stay. Severus Snape had after all betrayed them. Who knew how long it would take him to reveal the headquarters of the Order to Voldemort and his Death Eaters. It was all just a matter of time. There had been a few more charms and protections spells performed to ensure a few more days safety but nothing more. For now, they were just waiting for varification of a new headquarters, and then they would leave this place so full of memories and stories that it almost pained any of them to think too hard on it.
Rubbing her eyes tiredly, Hermione sighed as yet again she finished a conversation that lacked any sort of solution to her problems. Not that her problems were her own completely. Her problems were for those around her, those she cared about so deeply. The safety, and most importantly, the happiness of those she loved. All of which seemed to be lacking in great heaps. The face of dispair, lost, and death hung on them all like a thick fog that wouldn't cease. It was so thick that at times Hermione was sure that she was losing oxygen from her lungs.
For over a week now, Hermione had been busy trying to find a way out of this mess that everyone was placed in. She was basically desperate and reckless with the sadness she felt for her best friend, Harry. For years on end now, this boy, this wonderful, caring and compassionate boy had experienced such grief and pain that no human ever should be faced with. It appalled her and sickened her that she was often kept up till the break hours of the morning simply crying in her own frustration. Everyday she had to look into those green eyes of his and witness him growing old, fading. He was the stronger of them all, and yet, he withered dangerously as the days passed on.
Despite her brains, her wit, and her intellect, for the first time Hermione Granger was outright reckless. She was hopeless and frantic. She was damn right desperate to find a way to save them all, everyone. Even if it meant risking her own happiness and even more so her life for the cause. What was her life compared to those of Harry's entire family, or Dumbledore's anyway?
That night Hermione slept with disturbed dreams. Images of darkened, musty bedrooms. Of You-Know-Who mangling those she cared about. Of her best friends practically dead with unhappiness and grief. She dreamed of having no hope, and what the world would be filled of if everyone had lost it. It wasn't until a certain dreamed filled her mind that she was pulled into consciousness rather disgustingly with the need to wretch all over herself. Turning to her right, a sleeping red-head lay peacefully. Hermione was out of breath and her skin was not hot with sweat as she remembered what she saw in her dream moments before, and in a short time she was out of the room and ascending the stairs to the top most room of Number 12 Grimmauld Place.
Deserted, and supposedly impossible to enter, the room belonged to Senior Black. The man of the house whom Hermione had never heard anything about. Sirius had never mentioned him, at least to her remembrance, and as far as history goes she couldn't recall anything by his name. Biting down on her lip, she took a breath and collected her thoughts together. She wasn't one to think too irrationally but considering what she had just saw in her dream she knew that she couldn't back down out of what she wanted to do. With a small nod to herself for confidence, Hermione bent down so that her knees creaked against the floor boards. She felt like she was on auto-pilot. She couldn't control anything she was doing, yet at the same time she didn't want to stop. Still biting her lip, her fingers found their way to a broken floor board near the side of the door. Stuffing her finger down the side as far as she could, she winced as she felt a small splinter erupt under her skin. With one heave she managed to take the floor board from the rest of the ground, revealing under it a dusty and battered key.
Without thinking as to why no one had seemingly touched it in years, she took it from it's place and latched it into the keyhole, twisting the nob and pushing the door open to reveal a room that had not been entered in years on end. There was a small noise from down the stairs and with a quick decision she forced herself into the dark room and shut the door behind her. There were dull lights still lit from years of magical charm covered in cobwebs and dust. The room itself didn't look much like a bedroom, but instead a study of sorts. The walls were oddly blank, not a single picture or painting in sight.
Forcing it's way back into her mind, Hermione remembered why she was there and made her way to the side drawer of desk that stood in front of the fireplace. She jammed the key into the whole, and pulled out it's contents which happened to only be a thin silver chain. Lacing it through her fingers, she examined it as best she could in the faint light. It had a small ornament at the end of it, one that she had never seen before. It was relatively small, about the size of her thumbnail, maybe a bit bigger. It was flat and very crystallized. It looked like a marble that had been stomped flat by giants. She picked it up softly and noticed that it was oddly cold against her skin. At once a passage from a book she had read flashed through her, and she knew that most Dark Magic objects had a cold temperature to them.
Now, as unwise as it would be for her to waltz out of that bedroom with this chain around her neck seemed to make no difference to the girl at this moment. Her dream had ended where she stood, and now she felt rather clueless and dense. She had already determined that this object was more likely than not, very dark. Still, she had heard Harry talk of his dreams, all of which she was sure meant one thing or another. This felt like the answer, the answer to everything she had, as of late, been wishing to find. She squeezed the small ornament in her hand for a moment, making a silent prayer that this was her way to fight for those she loved. She squeezed without realizing that the same finger she had splintered from the floor board, now leaked a very minute amount of blood into the crystallized ornament, which was now deeply glowing with words in a language she'd have no idea to understand.
With one last breath, she left the room. She dropped the key back into the hole in the ground, doing her best to stomp the floor board back into place. As she approached the top of the stairs so she could descend, she slowed for a moment as an odd feeling overcame her. At first she thought she was simply out of breath, but after another moment she gasped in pain as her lungs felt as if they were being compressed by stone. She wheezed, closing her eyes tightly as the blood within her felt as if it were burning. Out of instinct she reached for the chain around her neck but before she could make contact, she had collapsed down onto the topmost step, already tumbling painfully towards the bottom.
Little did she know that when she hit the floor beneath the last step, she would no longer be in Grimmauld Place
She'd be back in a time that she had taken to calling ... the time of the Marauders.