LEAP

Summary: Hermione knew she was destined for something other than house-wifery and playing law. Instead, she was determined to fit the shattered pieces of her world back together even if it cost her everything she held dear. Time Travel AU.

4

August - 1981

Hermione sat with her feet tucked beneath her bum with the quilt from the bed thrown over her lap while she nursed her third cup of tea in as many hours. All about her milled both familiar and unfamiliar faces, many of whom openly stared at her with plain suspicion and mistrust. Fabian, who reminded her of one very stern Bill Weasley, stood nearest the kitchen, leaned back against the wood frame of the archway. It would have seemed like a casual and nonchalant stance, had the witch not realized he was placing himself protectively between Hermione and Molly, who hobbled from room to room and she puttered about to clean the rapidly filling house as more and more people flooded in from who-knew-where. The chestnut-haired man had confiscated the curly haired witch's wand and had it tucked into a holster at his thigh, to which Hermione was grateful and furious when the door opened again for the (seemingly) 100th time and a familiar face entered, flanked by four others.

Peter Pettigrew - pudgy, red-faced Peter, although younger and slightly less rat-like - was still recognizable to Hermione, as though she'd seen him just days before, and the man made her fingers itch for her wand. The hairs on the back of her neck rose, and her cheeks began to flush as her eyes flashed with anger and disgust. Given the opportunity, she did not put it past herself that she would not have killed him in that instant; her knowledge of his future, and present, misdeeds weighed her down like an anchor. Her suddenly trembling fingers tightend around her mug, and she took a deep drink of the cooling tea to steady herself, dragging her chocolate gaze from Peter's face to take in the sight of the companions that had entered the house alongside him.

A man that could not be mistaken as any other than James Potter stood proudly beside a slender, red haired woman holding a small, squirming bundle in her arms, and Hermione's breath caught in her throat. Lily and James, a duo that she had only ever seen in old photographs on Harry's mantle, were glowing as they greeted their friends, Lily waving Harry's pudgy arm in hello as they made their way through the gathered witches and wizards.

"I thought you were supposed to be in hiding?" laughed Fabian as he embraced the witch jovially, giving her a quick once-over as he took a step back.

James tapped him on the shoulder with his knuckles in a playful gesture. "Dumbledore wants all hands, apparently. I guess your house guest has some information he finds important, even to us." He shrugged his shoulders, almost seeming indifferent, and Hermione wondered just how different Harry's life would been if he had been given the chance to grow up alongside his father, a man who seemed to be her best friend's opposite. She sent a silent prayer up to whatever deity's existed that she would find out.

Behind them, she recognized Sirius as he leaned heavily against the door while another man, who could only be Remus, spoke to him in low, hushed tones. He shoved his limp black hair out of his face, and Hermione's lips turned down in a frown when she noticed the deep bags under his eyes and the gauntness of his cheeks. The man had aged, seemingly overnight, and reminded her more of the hollowed shell that had been left to rot in Azkaban for crimes he had not committed. Anger flared, once again, towards Peter Pettigrew, and she vowed to see him in chains (or a coffin) by the end of the war.

As she moved to rise from her chair to perhaps approach the mysteriously grave-looking Sirius, the door opened once more and Dumbledore strode in, commanding all eyes as he crossed the threshold. He seemed stronger in this time, not that the wizard had ever been anything but. Hermione's breath caught in her suddenly aching chest as she drank in the sight of her former headmaster, head spinning a bit as she realized sat in the presence of so many people she had both never known and, yet, had lost. Her heart began to hammer wildly in her chest.

The aged wizard stroked his white beard thoughtfully as he surveyed the room over the tops of his half moon spectacles. "It seems as though I'm the last to arrive," he mused aloud. "Excellent. That means we can get right to it." He clapped his hands together and turned his focus to Hermione, beckoning to her. "I don't recognize you. Odd. Did you not attend Hogwarts, my dear? I feel as though you have quite the story to tell." His blue eyes bored into her, twinkling in the mysterious way of his, and she averted her gaze uncomfortably, remembering what Harry had said about his being a legilimens during one of their many late-night conversations.

Complete attention turned to the curly haired witch and she set her tepid tea aside as she went to rise, pushing the blanket off of her knees as she went. Still a bit unsteady, she staggered a bit, and all eyes focused on her with a mix of awe, interest, and distrust. She tried not to allow the shaking of her hands to show as she went to address them all. She pointedly ignored the mistrustful glower from Fabian altogether by turning her back to him.

Without further ado, and feeling as though she should simply rip the proverbial bandaid off, she decided to jump in headfirst - as if there was ever any other option; who could lie to Dumbledore? Her hands began to shake, and she wrung them together in an effort to mask the shaking. "Of course, professor. Firstly," she cleared her throat a bit. "I should tell you I wasn't entirely truthful about my name. It isn't Jean; it's Hermione Jean Granger." It was better to start with the smallest lie, she figured.

Fabian grimaced at her back, his fingers tightening over the hilt of his wand as he studied her. "So you are a liar. I knew there was something wrong with you. What else have you got hidden up your sleeve?" The witch didn't miss the double entendre, and she turned to glare at the man. He glared back.

"I have a lot hidden up my sleeve, if you'd like to know," she scowled. "But I'm not the only one here with an agenda."

Dumbledore lowered himself to the Weasley's couch across from her, steepling his fingers under his chin as he addressed her with a curious but hesitant glint to his gaze. "Miss Granger, I must insist that you speak frankly." It was not a suggestion.

She shifted on her feet restlessly, and her fingers ached more relentlessly for the feel of her wand. "Then, I must ask that you allow me my wand."

The outrage was immediate, though quite expected, and Hermione's eyes practically rolled into the back of her head with annoyance. "So you can turn it on us? I don't think so," scoffed Fabian, and she got the distinct impression he harbored a great dislike for her for some reason.

She turned back to him then, eyes snaring him where he stood and she thrust out her arms to gesture at the dozen or so armed witches and wizards in the room. "I'm entirely surrounded by accomplished witches and wizards; I'm sure you can handle one witch if I step out of line." She rolled her eyes at him, holding out her hand for the wand in his grasp.

Dumbledore regarded her carefully, then motioned for Fabian to hand over the length of wood. Her looked ready to argue, but bit his tongue as he extended the witch's wand towards her. She took it eagerly from the man, feeling the energy pulse through her arm as she grasped it. Pausing, just briefly, she rolled up her left sleeve. Everyone in the room stiffened and grasped their own wands.

"As I said: my name is Hermione," the tip of her wand traced her skin from wrist joint to elbow crease and the word MUDBLOOD, which Bellatrix had carved into her skin so many years prior, seemed to fade into sight, the disillusionment charm lifting. An uncomfortable murmuring rose up around her, and she made direct eye contact with Fabian across from her, who wore an inscrutiable look on his face. "Some years ago, I was tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange in Malfoy Manor while helping my friends to search out and destroy particular artifacts that would prevent He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named from truly being defeated."

Her old headmaster nodded his head grimly. "I had my suspicions, but I had hoped, perhaps foolishly knowing the man, that he had not dabbled in that kind of magic."

"Unfortunately for us, he has, and that isn't all. But before I get further into my tale, I must warn you," her eyes flashed to pin Peter Pettigrew to the place he stood. "You have a traitor amongst you." The man (who was more than a little bit rat-like, even then) looked pale, his beady eyes going for the door.

"Blasphemy!" shouted a rotund man from the back.

"Hush, Elphias," came the immediate snap of a black haired woman with an exotic look about her.

Peter was easing slowly towards the door, and Hermione's arm shot out as she shouted, "Incarcerous!" Ropes shot from her wand and seized the man, sending him collapsing to the floor. He wriggled wildly in an attempt to free himself, and Hermione felt her wand fly from her hand in the same instant. She turned her scowl to Fabian, who clutched her wand in a firm grip, his own wand pointed directly at her chest.

Remus and Sirius were crouched protectively over their friend, trying to tug the bonds off his immobilized body, and James Potter had thrown himself in front of Lily with arms outstretched. "Leave him!" Hermione snapped, not taking her eyes off the point of Fabian's wand. "Check his left arm and pray I'm wrong."

"What in Merlin's name is wrong with you?" Sirius snapped as he gripped his own wand. "Peter has been with us since he was eleven years old!" Remus was tugging at his arm in an attempt to lower his friend's wand. "I should have just left you in the alley for Malfoy to pummel!" His words were a snarl and felt like a gut punch to Hermione.

"Check his left arm." Hermione snapped again, her eyes wild, as she raised her hands in a non-threatening gesture.

"We'll do no such thing!" Sirius bellowed, wrenching away from Remus and striding towards her. "How dare you turn your wand on Peter! He is good, and kind, and -"

"-Sirius." In the confusion, James had crouched down beside Remus and done as Hermione had bid. The witch sent up a silent prayer that someone had had the sense to at least look. His face was pale as he gripped Peter's left wrist in a vice-like grip, knuckled white, the damning black mark on his friend's skin bared to the group of gathered Order members. "Sirius, she was right."

Peter thrashed again wildly, shouting something around his gag that sounded something like "you don't understand", but his friends weren't listening. He had betrayed them.

Lily stood shell-shocked, sinking in the protective embrace of a very pregnant and very angry Molly some feet away from the bound and gagged man she had once called 'friend'. She clutched Infant Harry to her chest as he babbled "mama" over and over again. A burly man with green eyes and a head full of mussed red-brown hair strode forward and seized the ropes around Peter's chest, hauling him to his feet and thrusting him towards Fabian, who caught him by the arm roughly and pinned him with a sticking charm to the wall with a snarl.

"We'll handle you later." He then encompassed the outcast in a silencing bubble, and Hermione was impressed; the Auror seemed to be well-versed in handling Death Eaters.

Hermione speared the traitor with a look that could kill before addressing the room. "Keep a good eye on him," she warned. "He's an unregistered animagus, and he isn't above cutting off a finger or two to get away." She didn't miss the way Sirius and James fidgetted a bit from where they stood beside Remus, but did not glance their way as to not expose their collective secret.

Dumbledore was standing, she then realized, and his blue eyes froze her in place. "It seems you have more than a bit to explain, Miss Granger."

She raked her hand through her hair, partly in agitation, partly to soothe her nerves. "Whatever I can, Professor."

Without further prompting, she launched into the retelling of her story, feeling the mistrustful eyes of the original Order of the Phoenix boring into her from all sides.

"I know this will sound...asinine," she warned, "but I need you to hear me out. Entirely.

"My name is Hermione Jean Granger - please, call me Jean - and I was born on the nineteenth of September, 1979." Inhales of shock and disbelief greeted her words, but no one sought to stop her, even as a few muttered amongst themselves, so she continued on relentlessly.

"I work for the Department of Mysteries under one Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt, and I was granted the permission of coming to this time to stop He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named from returning and instigating a second war, as well as to destroy several artifacts that have granted him near-immortality." She inhaled deeply. "In order to do that, I aim to also save the lives of James and Lily Potter."

"I-I don't understand," Lily trembled, clutching baby Harry to her chest. James pulled her into the security of his broad arms, his eyebrows wrinkling in concern.

Hermione smiled sadly, wringing her hands before her nervously; how do you tell someone they're going to die? "Growing up, my best friends were Ronald Weasley and one Harry James Potter," she murmured softly. "Harry was orphaned when the Dark Lord received word of a prophecy depicting him as the one that would save the wizarding world; his parent's gave their lives to save him, which resulted in the Dark Lord to be...temporarily vanquished when his death curse rebounded off of Harry." She shook her head sadly. "Unfortunately, he returned in our first year at Hogwarts, and he gained strength in every year that followed. Harry nearly died to end the Second Wizarding War, and it came at a steep price. For all of us."

"And these artifacts," Dumbledore queried. "what are they?"

Hermione turned to him solemnly. "Horcruxes, Professor. Right now, there's only five, but in my time...there were seven."

The aged man looked almost dumbfounded. "Seven," he breathed. "Are you certain?"

She nodded gravely. "Yes. And one of them costs you your life. I'm hoping to prevent that, as well. In fact, I'm hoping to stop as much unnecessary death as I possibly can, if I'm honest."

The exotic woman from before spoke up softly. "Do...I mean to say...how many of us are still...around...in your time?"

Hermione fumbled a bit with the hem of her shirt. "In my present time...not many. Most of you were killed before the end of the first war, but some of you...some of you don't make it out of the second. Many of you I've only seen in photographs." She could see the comprehension of what Hermione's lack of recognition meant cross Fabian's features just briefly before his stony mask fell back into place.

"Well, then, Miss Hermione," Dumbledore said softly. "Tell us what you know of these horcruxes and how we may find and destroy them."

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A/N: I know most people who do Time Travel fics usually go for the "must keep it a secret at all cost" route, but I'm taking the easy way out.

One reviewer asked "just how far back did she go", and the answer is 20 years, five or take a few weeks/months. I like to think it was summertime-ish in 2001 when Hermione went back, and it's August in 1981. That would make past-Hermione 2 and present-day Hermione 21/22.

There's 5 Horcruxes in 1981, as well: the Ring, the Diary, the Cup, the Locket, and the Diadem. Nagini hasn't come into the picture yet, and James and Lily are still alive.

Enjoy! Em.