Thanks for the beta work Dave. I appreciate your awesome skills and Drill Sergeant ways.

Silver

Unstable

The sky was cloudy grey when the morning sun peaked over the horizon. The smell of morning dew, the bittersweet odour of rotting wood and wet moss overwhelmed his senses. Around him, birds began to chirp in the new day.

An agonized scream exploded in the distance. The birds quickly silenced.

Sirius ran faster. Behind him, James was yelling as another scream, inhuman and wild, rang out.

With a skid Sirius turned back around and shot to his right, dodging low branches as he charged towards the sound. Panting, he burst through a series of bushes and landed in a small clearing.

Laying atop the mossy grass, struggling to get up was a werewolf. Gasping and whimpering, it growled when it laid eyes on him. Canines bared, ears pulled back, hair on end as it attempted to stalk towards him, his movement however was brought to an abrupt and painful end when it's back broke with an echoing crack!

The werewolf cried pitifully, even as suspicious amber eyes remained on him. Another strangled howl escaped Moony's muzzle, this time more human than animal which didn't exactly help the situation. Pops, which made him cringe and ache with sympathy, rang out as elbows and knees broke, dislocated and readjusted themselves into their proper positions. As he watched, bones shortened or elongated, ears and nose drew back to their original forms. Long nails and tail shrunk and disappeared back into the body as dark fur slowly receded into skin.

Even years later it was truly difficult to watch. There really was something deeply unsettling about something foreign sinking into skin.

Remus' transformations felt like seven lifetimes as opposed to their usual seven minutes.

When more flushed skin began to appear, Sirius felt safe enough to approach his injured best mate. Padding towards the shaking form he smelt sweat, blood, tears and the pungent smell of urine. As he moved, he began to transform. Identical to the change Remus had just gone through, albeit painless and willing.

Sirius kneeled next to his hurt friend, as he did the world shifted from grey to colour and his paws gave way to hands and feet.

Amber eyes opened, and Remus made to open his mouth. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, his teeth and gums stained bright red. He tried to speak, but only succeeded in choking.

Sirius quickly shook his head. 'No one,' he rushed out, already knowing what would've been asked.

Did I bite anyone?

Somewhere in the background James was still calling out. He didn't respond, he was far too preoccupied with studying the naked flesh of his friend.

No deep cuts, no misshapen bones or odd angles. Sirius ran his hand down Remus' sweaty and heated back, all aligned. Gently, he ran both hands around the werewolf's neck, prodding and searching for any sign of a break or misaligned bone.

'Over here!' he bellowed reaching for his back pocket.

Without much thought, a silver dog burst out of his wand and flew to his left. He quickly dropped it and very slowly, made to turn a feverish and trembling Remus on his back.

Rustling leaves and approaching yells told him James and Caradoc were well on their way. No sooner than he finished positioning Remus, was a stretcher conjured underneath his body.

Dearborn appeared a second later, falling to his knees and whipping out his wand, running it over his best mate in a flurry of spells. The dog Animagus moved to give him room as the potion vials were unstopped.

'Remus! Drink this! Drink!'

A pale, injured hand with bloody fingernails stirred and just as quickly dropped.

Caradoc wasn't one to allow it though and lifted Remus' head by the nape. The werewolf opened unfocused eyes and with no conscious thought or awareness, managed to sip some of the potion pressed against his lips.

He felt James rather than saw him shifting from one foot to another.

'Any-' began James before Sirius cut him off with a shake of his head.

Stormy eyes focused on the Healer's wand watching as flashes of colour, diagnostic spells, ran all over Remus' body telling him fuck all.

The older wizard stood, sweat on his brow. 'Nothing life threatening and everything is back in its place,' he panted.

James nodded and with a flick of his wand, conjured a sheet just as Remus and his stretcher began to levitate.

Nothing else was said. Caradoc ran ahead of them with Remus at his side and James followed three steps behind. Picking up his wand, he ran after them. When he reached his cabin, it was the sight of a convulsing Remus that met him. Caradoc's wand once again running over Moony's unconscious body.

The seizure didn't last long, they never did, but the fear and stress that came with them did nothing to soothe his rattled nerves. Transforming into a werewolf was a bitch of a process. One that people failed to really understand. Unless they had to deal with it personally, or they'd witnessed someone change, no one could truly know how fucked up the whole thing was.

Sirius cringed. He'd been one of those ignorant pricks once. As a teenager, he had actually looked forward to the full moon. Imagining endless hours of mischief, not once stopping to think of the shit Remus would have to go through.

In his pitiful defence, the Marauders had never witnessed Remus transform. That had always taken place inside the Shrieking Shack, so they had never seen it happen first-hand. It wasn't until he'd moved into this cabin and gave Moony free reign, that he'd seen it. Whatever he'd imagined up to that point had quickly given way to the fucked up reality.

There was a reason why werewolves didn't live long lives.

Several minutes later, Caradoc straightened and turned to them. 'Nothing unusual. Overall, one of his better transformations.'

Sirius stared at the now sleeping werewolf. Brown hair matted with blood and mud, dark circles under his eyes, pale skin dotted with vicious looking bruises from where his joints broke and reattached, blue lips stained with dried blood, fingernails crusted with blood... the injuries went on and on. Dearborn was right though, this had been a smooth change.

'I'll call you when he wakes up.'

A door opened behind him, just as Caradoc began to roll up his sleeves. His three nurses trailing in, buckets and cloths in hand as they made their way to Remus' bedside.

'I'm going to go Floo call Mrs. Lupin,' murmured James as he made his way out of their little makeshift ward.

Sirius made to follow but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

'Drink this Sirius.'

He turned and the Healer was holding out a potion to him. The younger wizard eyed the bottle, 'What's that for?'

'Your arm.'

Sirius shook his head. 'I don't need it.'

'Then why are you pale and clutching at it?'

Surprised, he looked down and found his hand directly over the scar. 'Huh...' said Sirius with eyebrows raised. 'Well look at that.'

As if the moment of acknowledgement caused it, he was acutely aware of a painful throb radiating up and down his arm. He eyed the thin wizard before him.

'Sir, my arm hurts,' he said unnecessarily.

The older wizard huffed a laugh as he shook his head, 'No shit.'

Ignoring the rude commentary, Sirius reached for the potion and downed it. It was disgusting as hell and it burned on its way down. The throbbing began to steadily fade, replaced by a soothing warmth.

'I'll look after him,' reassured the Healer.

The Marauder blinked, startled at the quiet tone. With slight surprise, he realised he'd been staring at the elves as they began to clean his injured friend.

He knew Remus would be well looked after. Caradoc was a hell of a Healer. Sirius could name with a single hand, people whom he trusted with his life. The tall wizard with greying hair and glasses too big for his thin face was one of them.

I know he wanted to say, but it would've been too sentimental a moment for a straight bloke.

Nodding he turned and left the ward. He needed a smoke.

It was as he walked out, that Hope's panicked voice reached him.

'...ith him?'

'Yeah,' answered James. 'Sirius and I were. It was a straightforward change. He's resting now but I'll make sure he Floo calls first thing in the mor...'

He hadn't meant to slam the door, but it happened anyway. He was far too angry, too frustrated, too - he didn't know what. He had too many emotions running through him that describing each one was impossible. Whatever they were didn't mean or change shit because in the end, feelings were fucking pointless.

It was as he lit a fag that the door opened and shut behind him. Even with his back to him, he knew exactly who it was. Who else would it be?

'Are you done acting like a little bitch or should I come back later?'

Sirius turned to glare at his messy haired friend. 'Piss off James.'

'Mind your fucking tone Sirius,' warned Prongs. 'I'm not in the mood for your shit.'

The long haired wizard stalked towards the other, pointing at the cabin. 'That's fucking wrong and you know it!'

Hazel eyes became slits. 'Back off arsehole.'

'Stop fucking lying to her!'

'-Back off Sirius.'

'Stop ly...'

'-I said back off!' yelled James as he shoved him away.

Sirius stumbled, nearly falling but it didn't change a thing. 'Stop telling her we're with him! She deserves to know the truth!'

'So she can worry?!'

'So she can help him!'

With heaving chests, the two best friends glared at each other. Neither one backing down, each believing he was right.

'We promised Remus.'

And that's what it came down to in the end wasn't it?

In a moment of desperation and weakness, they'd promised the werewolf that they would lie to his parents. As far as Lyall and Hope Lupin were concerned, Moony was never without a companion during his transformations. He was looked after by his Animagus friends, who made damn sure to keep him safe.

Except they weren't and he wasn't.

Remus was alone on full moons because Moony had grown to mistrust any and all creatures, especially those who resembled wolves. It hadn't always been that way. As a young werewolf, Moony had been cautious at first but quickly adapted to the stag, rat and dog.

And then they weren't in school anymore, but thrust head first into a war that they couldn't afford to lose.

People want to talk about choices, but fact was they didn't have one. Life under a Dark Lord's rule was not an option and each contributed where they could. For Remus, his place had been an obvious one. Within months of leaving school, he'd been sent off to try and gather werewolf allies. He'd been gone less than six months when it became clear that the pack's loyalties wouldn't change. Voldemort promised a better life. In their minds, Remus, who'd clearly been loved and had been accepted by humans, wasn't one of them. Because of it, the other werewolves had been less than willing to listen.

While outwardly tolerant, the pack's true feelings showed at full moon. When their wolves took over. Moony, when not faced with a human was an otherwise docile werewolf, found himself repeatedly attacked. A young werewolf not accustomed to other wolves, against an angry pack couldn't and didn't stand a chance. By the time Dumbledore recognised defeat and called him back, the damage had been done.

After two transformations, it was obvious that Moony had stopped trusting his former companions. Wormtail and Prongs had become potential meals. Padfoot had become a threat. Moony was dangerous, almost feral, and keeping him company was no longer an option.

After a really bad transformation Remus had sworn the Marauders to keep his injuries quiet from his parents, no matter how bad.

And so, James lied. Sirius didn't agree. Peter was just scared. And Remus... the transformations were beginning to have their toll.

Sirius shook his head, completely furious at the truth of James' words. An inhale of his cigarette and a backwards step gave him room and time to think.

'It wasn't fair of him to swear us to that. Hope needs to know the damage it's doing on him.'

Prongs nodded at his fag. 'I know. But he's one of our best mates and it's for his mum.'

The dog Animagus threw his pack of smokes at him. 'What'd she say?'

'The usual,' said James as he lit his cigarette. The tip burning a fiery orange-red with a deep inhale.

Sirius grinned as the stag Animagus shut his eyes in utter ecstasy. 'Pussy.'

James didn't reply, just took another drag and continued to enjoy his moment of tobacco fuelled bliss.

Sirius took a drag himself, staring at the woods around him. The sight never failed to amaze him. It always made him feel as if he was the last man on Earth. It was both an eerie and soothing thought.

Neither spoke, each too trapped in their thoughts. Even if they did talk, it would've been a conversation about war and death and Order missions and gossip. The whole of their lives was centred on this war. Naturally, there was rarely anything else to talk about. Which was difficult in itself as Order members weren't allowed to speak of their individual missions.

War was so much shit.

'Lily is in Teignmouth for a Muggle wedding.'

'If you start crying cos you miss her I'll fucking deck you.'

James gave him a dirty look and Sirius grinned. 'Before she left, she told me about what happened with Marley. She asked me to talk to you.'

Shit.

'What'd you tell her?' he cautiously asked.

'Told her I would. So this is me talking to you. If your shit relationship starts affecting Lily and me, again, I'll fucking curse you worse than before.'

Sirius flinched remembering the painful boils that grew in size with all counter spells and healing potions.

'Tell Lily to mind her own.'

'I have,' hissed his messy haired friend. 'We fucking end up arguing cos of it. Marley is my friend! If someone was hurting the Marauders you'd be angry too! Just because it's Sirius doesn't excuse it! I finally manage to convince her that you're both fucking adults and can fix yourselves if you so choose, she drops it and life moves on! But then you fuck up and it all goes to shit when Marley shows up fucking crying!'

Sirius cringed. He should've expected this. Marley and Lily were good mates after all. A friendship born and maintained after having lived in the same dorm for seven years. While not best friends, the witches were fairly close. He really didn't want to hear this. 'It's not your business James, stay out of it.'

'Problem is that your little girlfriend is making it my business.'

Now it was his turn to glare. 'She's not my girlfriend.'

'-I don't give a fuck what she is Sirius. Just sort her out cos I'm done with it. Lily and I have enough shit to deal with without Marley adding to it.' James shook his head as he walked towards the Disapparation point. 'It's Sunday mate. Floo call Mum if you don't plan on showing up for tea. She worries.'

He did end up calling Mrs. Potter, deciding against leaving in order to keep Remus company instead. The werewolf hadn't been much for conversation as he'd been unconscious throughout. So really, he'd just sat by Moony's bedside, resting his eyes. He may not be able to accompany him on a full moon anymore, but that didn't mean he slept during them. He simply shifted to mask his human scent and sat on his balcony, hearing Moony howl and hunt.

He must've been more tired that he'd thought because when he opened his eyes, morning had given way to fading sunlight and Remus sat up in bed, talking to Peter.

'Pleasant surprise isn't it?' said Remus. His voice rough and hoarse.

Sirius nodded, smiling at the short wizard. 'It's been a while mate. How are you?'

Peter shrugged, a sheepish smile on his face, a blush beginning to stain his round cheeks. 'M'okay. My mission finally ended and I knew it'd been full moon last night. Couldn't go home without checking on Moony first.'

Sirius thumped him in the back, 'Good lad.' Grey eyes turned to the werewolf. 'And you?'

'I'm alright.'

Sirius nodded and smiled, knowing damn well that was a lie but he didn't argue, allowing Remus to save face. 'I'll be right back.'

Racing down to the Disapparation point, Sirius shut his eyes when pressure closed in around him. When he opened them, he was faced with a fiery Valkyrie atop a two headed dragon, staring him down. The poster of a band, it was the only evidence that a famous metal band had visited this town. With a wink at her gorgeous tits, Sirius left the park he'd appeared in and walked to The Rooster in the Mule.

He didn't bother to be a smart arse. He was far too busy and Remus needed his strength. The Marauder ordered their meals, necked a pint as he waited, and raced out of there as soon as he could, practically flying through the woods and up two flights of stairs.

When he entered Moony's room James had joined them as well.

All four stared at one another. Each aware of the fact that it had been a long time since they had been together. Months in fact, perhaps even a year. Three of them at once was rare, two was common. All four at once? It was odd.

'Well this is fucking weird,' said James and Sirius had to agree.

Remus cleared his throat. 'Should I be honoured that you all gathered because of me?'

'Nah mate,' said the rat Animagus with a sideways nod at Sirius. 'We're only here cos we love us some Cock in the Arse.'

And that lessened the tension.

Their conversations we're still riddled with awkward silences but when that happened, a joke was made and families were discussed. Well, they talked. He just listened.

Talking about his family wasn't a topic he enjoyed considering that they wanted to Crucio and Avada Kedavra them all.

Inevitably conversation moved to the Order. Both James and Remus informing Peter of recent events. Particularly one that had occurred a week ago, during the Appleby attack.

Benjy Fenwick was a selfish arsehole that had no common sense or, depending on one's point of view, a true hero with the right idea.

He liked the bloke well enough, but that didn't change that the tall blond was a bloody fucking moron. Reckless and impulsive was a bad enough combination, but add in revenge fuelled anger and you had a recipe for disaster.

At twenty-four, Benjy had become a ticking time-bomb.

Mad-Eye agreed as well, if his growled yells the day after the attack had been anything to go by. Sirius needn't ask what had happened, because he'd been able to hear everything that Alastor was yelling at the lad. And that had been without his advanced hearing.

He and Dorcas had been dropping off potions at the Appleby safe house, had just left its wards in fact, when the attack began. Order wards had come crushing down and different wards had been raised as spells were shot around them, successfully trapping those in protective custody within the house. The pair had witnessed it all, completely unable to do anything as the wards didn't allow them to pass or for those inside to leave the burning building. Rendered useless as the house burned down and its occupants screamed, Benjy hadn't handled it well and chased after Disapparating Death Eaters.

He'd actually managed to cling to one of their robes and had gone along for the ride. He, James and Remus had joined fellow Order members when an emergency meeting had been called. Frantic and worried, the Order had been in the process of planning a rescue mission when Benjy strolled into headquarters happy as Larry, as if he hadn't been missing. Bloke had actually had the nerve to look insulted when Mad-Eye manhandled him.

Moody had grabbed the idiot by the shirt and pushed him into his office, slammed the door behind him and had quickly proceeded to tear him a new arsehole. He couldn't really blame the old bastard. Benjy was steadily becoming more and more reckless.

Then again, he couldn't blame Benjy either, not after everything the poor bastard had been forced to live through. More than once, Caradoc had advised Dumbledore that Benjy was a danger to himself and others. Completely unfit for battle, that he needed help... but it always fell on deaf ears. Fact was, Benjy Fenwick was a superb Curse Breaker and the Order needed him. With the war steadily growing worse, it didn't matter that he was a liability or that he was too damn angry to care.

Out of them all, he was the single Order member with the most confirmed kills, totalling sixteen if his word was good. That number was all the more shocking considering he'd only been a member for a little over a year.

At this rate, it was only a matter of time before he snapped.

'Do you think he'll be kicked out?' asked Pete after the story had been told, his eyes wide.

Sirius raised his fag to his lips. Enjoying the rush of hot smoke as it invaded his senses. Remus and James shook their heads.

'He's too important,' answered James as Remus replied with, 'We need him.'

Sirius remained quiet, not really interested about a conversation that involved Benjy Fenwick. He exhaled and watched as the silvery smoke danced upwards. Twisting and morphing.

'But... He broke protocol. Shouldn't he be kicked out?'

Yes he should've been. Technically, he would've been kicked out a long time ago.

For a long moment no one answered the shorter wizard.

With a sigh, Moony finally did. 'He can't be.'

'Why?'

Sirius shook his head, frustrated with this line of questioning. Frustrated with the shit topic. Sometimes, Pete was too much like a damn child. Simple conversations lasted longer than necessary, all because of his constant fucking questions. At this rate, Wormtail wouldn't stop asking until he got a straight answer.

'Because he's too dangerous,' said Sirius, completely exasperated.

From the corner of his eye he saw Wormtail turn to him, an expression of surprise and dawning realisation on his face.

'Oh,' he said slowly. 'Yeah...'

And there was the simple truth of it.

Benjy couldn't be kicked out because he was too dangerous. As long as he was in the Order, he could be watched. If he was let go, he would only manage to become yet another problem. The bloke needed order and focus. Without them, he'd be no different than the monsters he was fighting against.

As it stood, Dumbledore appeared to be the only one who could calm him down.

Even Moody, whose sole purpose in life was to instil fear, couldn't manage to subdue the bloke's temper. Then again, after having lived through hell, he doubted anything beyond the face of his tormentors could bring fear to the blond.

Or at least he suspected they would. Since his rescue and allegiance to the Order of the Phoenix, Benjy had managed to hunt down and kill two of his captors.

The tall blond killed Death Eaters without prejudice... and for that reason alone, Sirius was cautious of him.

A knock of the door startled them, wands quickly appeared from under a robe, pillows and back pockets.

'Remus? May I come in?'

Three grins erupted as Remus blushed.

'Yeah!' he yelled at the closed door. 'Come in Dorcas!'

The door opened, and in strolled a beautiful woman of thirty-three, holding a tray full of food. When she saw them all together, dark eyes lit up and full lips broke into a stunning smile. Remus turned to the dark-skinned witch with an apologetic side smile.

'Well, isn't this a pleasant surprise! Look at you guys, all together and Marauding.'

Sirius nodded, as the other two greeted the powerful witch.

The Great Obliviator settled the tray on Remus' desk and made her way towards the werewolf. A soft smile on her face, tender eyes solely focused on Remus. The pair spoke in muted tones, soft caresses and lingering smiles. Moony's spirits lifted in milliseconds.

It was disgusting.

As Dorcas lowered her lips to meet Remus', Peter quickly averted his eyes. James and he, simply stared. He was happy for his friend. After all the shit Remus had been forced to endure, he deserved this.

The remaining Marauders made to leave but were quickly stopped by the witch.

'No, no, no. You guys stay, I'll leave. I only came to bring him food, but judging by the take away I assume Sirius did the job for me.'

'Sorry Dorcas,' he said and meant it. If he'd known she was showing up, he really wouldn't have bothered.

The witch shook her head. 'No worries Sirius, thank you.'

A handful of pleasantries were exchanged before she made her leave. When she did, the silence crept up again.

They'd lost something he thought and felt his chest ache from the loss. If Sirius was one for metaphorical shit, he would easily say that with Moony's rejection, the era of the Marauder's was well over.

As he eyed his three best mates, he knew it wasn't true though. The awkward silences and odd moments were perfectly normal for people who had begun to steadily grow up and apart. It only made sense that this war added unnecessary strain on their friendship. After all, it was hard to be someone you stopped being a long time ago. People changed and evolved. Friendships did as well. Fact was, they would never be how they once were. It was impossible.

Sirius grinned when Peter made a lewd comment to break the silence, and as James roared with laughter, pointing at a blushing Remus. The ache in his chest lessened. No way in hell was this the end. Of the five people whom he trusted with his life, three of them were in this very room and that would never change.

They may not speak as often as they used to and all four of them together, at once, may have become a rarity but it didn't matter. Not even the awkward conversations did, because the Marauders weren't broken.

And they never would be.

With a groan and an aching head, Hermione slowly opened her eyes.

Not at all willing to meet the new day, she lay motionless in bed, still half asleep and staring at the canopy above.

The light coming in through the windows burned her scratchy eyes and the noise from the grounds below put her on edge. As annoying as both were they hinted at the time, well past midday.

Her promise to attempt a normal day once again a failure. Admittedly, she hadn't really tried. Yes, she'd promised Dumbledore that she would aim for normalcy... but it was too hard a task considering she didn't give a damn about anything.

Unfortunately, she had to pretend. It was with that thought that Hermione reluctantly got out of bed and aimed for the loo, a shower in mind. Doing her best to avoid looking in the mirror.

She knew what she'd see and she didn't care to see it again. Curls tangled, eyes bloodshot with dark circles under them, she was thinner than she'd ever been, her skin pale almost translucent... Hermione didn't recognise the girl who stared back at her anymore and she didn't care.

If it were up to her, she wouldn't bother pretending that everything was going to be okay. Unfortunately, it wasn't up to her. It was all on the Headmaster, who insisted that she have a routine. So she slept and dreamt of terrible things, ate tasteless food and breathed as she went through the motions of daily life. All while she avoided seeing the pathetic creature she had become.

Besides, her appearance was the least of her problems.

Since her meeting with Croaker a week ago, her sleeping pattern had spiralled out of control again and her magic... It had become a problem.

When she did manage to rest, nightmares ruled her subconscious. The majority of which centred around her loved ones. Of Harry and Ron dying at the hands of runaway Death Eaters as they searched the world for her. Of her mum and dad remembering her and hating her, uncaring she'd disappeared. That was the worse one yet... no one caring that she was missing. Foolish though it was, that nightmare was far too vivid and far too repetitive. It was hard to hate her dreams though. In them, she was able to remember their voices and see their faces. In the real world, that act was too painful.

She couldn't bring herself to think of Mum, Dad, Harry and Ron.

Her memories of him - them - were tainted. Used by The Woman for her own purposes, they'd been molested and damaged. Mutated and turned into something ugly.

Remembering them hurt too much. A deep ache that was beyond words and tears.

Hermione had nothing.

She was a shell with no future and a past that haunted her. The older witch had robbed her of so much. She'd effectively stolen her future and poisoned her past.

Thinking of the mad witch caused her blood to boil. Rage, unlike anything she'd ever felt before or believed herself capable of feeling, paralyzed her. And for those brief moments, she understood how easily one person could destroy another. Hermione had never believed herself capable of killing someone, and yet her mind swam with images of that very scenario.

Freshly showered, she walked back to bed and lay down as she struggled to focus on anything beyond the loud ticking of the grandfather clock.

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock...

Damn thing was purposely mocking her, she was sure of it. Ignoring it, she dressed and walked towards the kitchen. As she did, Croaker's Mokeskin pouch caught her attention. Inside it, she'd found the Unspeakable's personal journal.

Hermione quickly learned that Saul Croaker kept methodical and precise notes, to the point that he had practically turned it into an art form. Though at first sight, it all seemed a mess, his notes were in fact organised chaos. The man was a genius, plain and simple. His journal was a vault of time-travel knowledge unlike anything she had ever believed possible.

His theories, as impossible as they may have seemed, all had valid reasons behind them. His ideas on paradoxes was unprecedented. Croaker's work was truly impressive. Had circumstances been different, she would have enjoyed a conversation with the short man.

As it was, she was here and he was back doing whatever it was that he did, completely oblivious to her existence.

Croaker had been right. There had been no possible way for her to return home.

Within the span of a week, the Unspeakable had explored every single possibility. All his theories, according to his detailed notes, came back inconclusive. And so the Time-Turner remained unchanged as time ticked away.

Hermione was very aware of the fact that the world she found herself in was not her own. In her circular room she had a spectacular view of the grounds. The scenery was far too similar to what she knew and for a few hours, she could pretend that nothing was wrong.

Then the bells would ring.

Students with uniforms different to the one she had worn, and hairstyles she thought as out-of-date, would swarm the grounds. Professors she didn't know walked the fields and those she did recognise, walked with an agility she had not known them to possess. It was overwhelming. Especially, when some scenes appeared too close for comfort.

The witch walked over to the open windows and stared at the students as they made their way to class.

Yesterday, Hermione had witnessed two Hit-Wizards enter the grounds, guided by three Aurors. She had witnessed a similar scene once before when Susan Bones had been collected after her aunt's murder.

Hermione had waited to see who they'd come to collect. She wished she could say that she had been sitting there out of respect but it would've been a lie. Morbid curiosity wouldn't have been an honest answer either.

Truth was, she just wanted to see another person suffering. It made her feel less alone.

Misery loved company after all.

Small clusters of students had formed and the whole of the school seemed to have held its collective breath. Trailing behind him, she recognised the two Hit-Wizards from before and a small form walking between the pair. The student had to have been a first year. Behind the three were two Aurors, a trunk levitating between them.

Hermione had watched their little procession until with a blue flash, the Hit-Wizards, kid and trunk Portkeyed away.

Hermione turned away from the window, only to be met by a disgruntled House-Elf. Hands on hips, scowl firmly in place, it just stared at her.

'Hooky has been standing here for the past ten minutes Mistress,' he squeaked.

Hermione blinked, not at all bothered. 'You should have left after the first one.'

The elf didn't reply, rather it snapped his fingers and a plate of food appeared at her table. Ignoring it, she grabbed an apple and moved from her seat near the window, to the couch by the fireplace as the elf began to gossip.

The young witch knew she could at least pretend to pay attention, but fact was she wasn't interested in Hooky's trivial house cleaning problems.

Rather she focused on her chewing and thought back on the memory of the previous day.

From her vantage point, she hadn't been able to distinguish beyond figures and shapes.

It made her wonder about the kid's reaction. If he or she had been crying and distraught or shocked and in denial. Either way, Hermione thought bitterly, at least the kid had a vague idea as to what had happened to the people they'd lost. Vanishing without a trace had to be so much worse. Not knowing the fate of missing loved one was torture. To think of her parent's unknown fate and of Ron and Harry's worried...

Hermione shut her eyes and firmly refused to go down that path.

Somewhere in the background, Hooky continued his pointless story and the ticking grew louder.

'-and Hooky told Dilny to quiet herself or Hooky would...'

She truly wished he would just shut up and go away. All he ever did was prattle on about the stupidest of things and quite frankly, she didn't care. She just wanted silence.

Unfortunately, that wasn't a possibility as the small elf was her constant companion and he had a tendency of getting anxious when it was too quiet. After having been alone for so long though, his company was a welcome one but that still didn't mean he had to talk every bloody second.

It was with relief that the miniature elf froze mid word. She'd quickly learned that this was a sign of being summoned, which meant Dumbledore had called him. A crack of Apparation later and she was blissfully alone. It didn't last. The Headmaster had simply called him so he could in turn inform her of an impending visit.

She knew what was to come. It'd been a week and all that time, she had been expecting this. As her panic swelled, objects around her began to vibrate.

Sure enough, Dumbledore's visit was about her departure from Hogwarts. She'd argued and tried her best to make him see reason, but it had all fallen on deaf ears and all throughout, that damned clock had not. Stopped. Ticking!

Hermione grabbed the nearest object her magic was rattling - Croaker's journal - and threw it at the antique woodwork. The clock face broke with a loud and satisfying crash, and shattered glass fell to the floor. Still, it continued to tick.

She rounded on Dumbledore, angry tears in her eyes. 'I can't leave! I'm safe here!'

'You are safe nowhere.'

Her mouth fell open, tears blurring his edges. Hermione shook her head, struggling to prolong her delusion, even as it crumbled around her.

She was safe in Hogwarts. She was.

'No,' she whispered as hot tears ran down her cold cheeks. 'No...'

'I sheltered you from the truth Hermione,' he said softly. 'You had not been well enough to handle the enormity of your situation. Some part of you knew, from the very beginning, that you would be unable to return. Your case had been far too complicated for it to be so easily remedied. You did not allow yourself to accept it however. As you healed, I searched for a solution. When it became clear that my research was, for lack of a better word, pointless, I sought out Professor Croaker. He had been my last resort... My priority then became your safety. The truth of that I'm afraid is that as long as you are here, in this time, you will never be safe. You are now in constant danger. And though it would be the easier option, I cannot in good conscience keep you here, hidden and locked away in a tower forever.'

Hermione wanted him to stop talking. Never before could she remember wanting to Silencio someone as much as she did now.

But you can't, mocked a scathing little voice in her head that sounded like The Woman.

The young witch shook her head as she bit the inside of her cheek. She absolutely refused to focus on the truth of that statement.

Pleading eyes stared at the man as the rattling continued. 'Please sir,' she whispered. 'I can't leave.'

Dumbledore met her eyes, shaking his head slowly. His eyes dull. 'Your situation has become far too dangerous.'

Hermione blinked, not understanding his comment, nor caring to.

'Why can't I just stay here?' she asked again.

The Headmaster eyed her and after a moment, sighed.

'Your magic has become volatile Miss Granger.'

Hermione blinked, completely side-lined by his abrupt statement. Realisation was slow to come but when it did, the implication of his previously cryptic words hit.

He meant that she was dangerous.

Her.

That's what he'd been trying to say.

Her magic rolled and the windows began to shake. All her anger and frustration intensified. She felt electric. Explosive. Vibrating with suppressed magic, her fingertips tingled with raw energy and Hermione saw red. She wanted to hurt and destroy. To make the world feel as she did and the Headmaster... he was right there.

Closed fists slammed down on the armrests as she stood, rounding on the wizard she spoke without thinking.

'I am not dangerous!' she spat. 'I'm not Ariana!'

Dumbledore froze and the room temperature dropped as his gaze burned through her. His features stony, undisguised fury in his eyes. The power the older wizard radiated slammed against her chest, and it floored her. Hermione clenched her teeth together, her jagged nails bit into her palms and she felt herself break out in a cold sweat.

Too far. She'd gone too far.

The Headmaster looked away, bowing his head into his steepled hands and slowly, the warmth returned to the room. When his eyes opened the twinkle was gone, replaced by a guarded look. When he spoke, it was with clipped tones.

'Croaker was correct Miss Granger. Your presence in the school would bring unwanted attention. Truth is, you are not age appropriate to be a student and far too young to hold any position within the grounds. Even an apprenticeship would require authentic Ministry paperwork and identification. An entirely new identity would be needed. If we somehow managed to succeed without arousing suspicion, it would be an altogether different case of alarm if you appeared mid-year. Strangers are a threat as Professor Croaker said. For safety reasons, Hogwarts is in lockdown. The only adults allowed in the grounds are professors, staff and Ministry stationed Aurors. As it stands, less than honourable school governors have been attempting to see me removed from the school. I have no doubt that they would use you as the perfect catalyst to guarantee such an event and I cannot run the risk of leaving the school unprotected.'

The young witch remained silent, her mind racing.

There was no point arguing or hoping for a different outcome. The older man had clearly given his decision more than a bit of thought. If he strongly believed the students were in danger, there would be no changing his mind. She would leave the school because she had to. Because it was the safest choice for the students in his care.

The scared and desperate side of her wanted to selfishly argue her case, but she knew he was right and for more than one reason.

Hermione dwelled in the past, yet it wasn't really living. She felt as if she was drowning... and she didn't care.

It was that, more than anything else that told her what she needed to know. For her sake as well as the students' safety, she had to leave.

The rattling stopped, and the grandfather clock's ticking became louder as everything else grew silent.

Shards of glass sparkled and dots of light scattered around the room in the setting sun. The effect was rather whimsical.

'What will happen to me?' she asked quietly, completely defeated.

'I will not prolong your move any longer Hermione. To do so would be unnecessarily cruel,' the Headmaster said. His tone once again soothing, almost apologetic. 'Within the next hour, as you prepare your belongings, a plan will be set in motion that will guarantee your safe arrival to a secure location.'

Her own Advance Guard, thought Hermione as she blinked away tears. Remembering in vivid detail a night long ago, where she had risked her life with a potion to save the life of her friend. She'd been just as scared then.

'Who...?' Who's risking their life for me?

Dumbledore took it to mean something else entirely.

'-An old friend of mine. I am confident that you will be as safe there as you are here Hermione. I also believe that she is the best suited to help you. She is unique in the sense that she is one of the few souls left in the world who is willing to help those in need, no questions asked. A fool, however, she is not. No doubt she will catch on to the fact that your situation is more dangerous than initially stated. For obvious reasons, no matter how curious she becomes she must not be made aware of the truth. The less people know of you, the better.'

And then he'd gone.

Leaving her to collect her things, which weren't really hers. All her possessions were forgotten and lost items supplied to her by Hooky. In the end, only a few articles of clothing were shoved into the small Mokeskin pouch... and didn't that just about sum up her life in the past perfectly?

The hour sped by. The ticking of the horrible clock grew louder and then the clock chimed. The hour was up.

She grabbed the pathetic little bag and made her way up to the Headmaster's office. She knocked once and was about to do so again when Dumbledore called for her to come in.

She pressed her forehead to the door and shut her eyes. Tears streaming down her face. Her belly ached and her hands shook.

It was all out of her control. Everything was. Even her own body.

Breathe Hermione.

She turned the rattling doorknob and walked into the room.

She didn't speak or dare to look up, she was far too scared of breaking down in front of the Headmaster again. Too many times he'd been a witness to her problems, she didn't want him seeing it again. Not now.

'Hermione?'

She didn't look up. Couldn't look up.

A sigh and then silence. After a moment, 'I would like you to meet our security for the night Hermione. I believe you are acquainted with Alastor Moody.'

Shocked eyes shot up and zeroed in on a scarred face and an electric blue eye.

Her mind raced with suppressed memories and the strength of them froze her.

Images flashed through her mind in rapid succession. Of Firewhisky filled glasses raised in honour of the man and his sacrifice. Of her asking him survival questions and tips. Of his advice on protection spells late at night when they had both been unable to sleep and sought refuge in the large Black library. He'd always seemed annoyed at her incessant questions but she'd overheard him tell Dumbledore that as long as Harry had her, the lad wouldn't be in as much shit as he would be without her.

Logically, she knew this was Mad-Eye, and yet her mind fought against it. Because Alastor Moody was dead. Killed by Voldemort himself on a chilly summer night. His body's whereabouts unknown. So this couldn't be him.

The man before her was dead.

Dead, dead, dead.

Just like Dumbledore and she was in a room with them.

She couldn't do this.

She was in a room full of dead people, trapped in a place that would soon become eclipsed with war and she couldn't leave. The Woman had made sure of it, Croaker had cemented it and now Dumbledore was seeing it all through and she was in a world where the dead walked.

'No,' she muttered, shaking her head, still eying the powerful Auror. 'No, no, no...'

All around her objects shook and Mad-Eye took out his wand, both of his eyes on her.

From the corner of her own, she saw Dumbledore carefully approaching her. He was treating her like a caged lion, which, she thought with a hysterical little laugh, she technically was.

'Hermione... breathe...'

Breathe.

That was his answer to everything. But it wasn't an answer. It was an order. One she was expected to follow even as she drowned because she was nothing more than a book made to be read and a specimen meant to be studied. She didn't exist after all. In this time, only the dead did.

A hand on her back startled her and several of the Headmaster's books toppled over. She shut her eyes and tears pooled behind her closed lids.

Breathe. Breathe.

She turned and met the elder wizard's stare, his features blurred by tears.

'I can't leave,' she gasped between strangled breaths. Her voice hitching. 'You're all dead. You're all dead - I can't - please, please don't...'

He pulled her into his arms and held her. He didn't speak. No one did in fact. The whole study remained silent as she cried. A part of her had hoped that he would drop his plans, but by the time her tears stopped and he'd not yet spoken, she knew there was no change. She would leave Hogwarts. She had to. As if reading her thoughts, the Headmaster spoke.

'You cannot stay in the school my dear. And for that, I truly am sorry.'

She didn't respond because she didn't know what to say.

'Albus, the sun is setting. We'll have to leave soon.'

She felt rather than saw Dumbledore nod.

'Alastor has consented to help us tonight Hermione. With the climate as it is, I feel an extra wand would be welcome. We...' his voice faded away.

She was really leaving the castle.

For the first time in so many months she wouldn't be locked away. It should have been a good thing. It should have been a relief. Instead, it terrified her. An object behind her fell to the ground, its' rattling much louder now as it shook against the stone floor. To her right, Fawkes began to sing. She didn't fight the magic this time, allowing his song to soothe her.

As heat spread throughout her body, Hermione did some mental counting. Including her kidnapping and her time in the past, she had not set foot outside for three months.

The fact made her anxious. It was nothing compared to the fear she felt though. The thought of going out made her nauseous and caused the back of her neck to prickle.

But there was nothing she could do or say that would put a stop to this. Not when Dumbledore was so determined.

Fawkes sang louder, her heart began to calm and noises around her began to settle. It was only then that she felt herself grasping something soft in her hand. Dazed and confused, the young witch looked down at her opened hand. She was holding a red feather. It was warm to the touch.

Odd, she thought seconds before a backwards jerk of her navel had her violently flying through the air.

Panicking, Hermione fought and screamed.

No, no, no!

Her body slammed down on something hard, the wind completely knocked out of her. There was yelling around her as she struggled to catch her breath. She was shaking and she could feel someone tugging on her arm.

Brown eyes met blue and she flinched away. Rapidly crawling towards the nearest wall as loud noises continued around her.

'Hermio...'

She shook her head as she cowered on the wall. She shut her eyes and covered her ears. She pressed her lips together. She wouldn't speak.

She wouldn't make a sound. She wouldn't make a sound. She wouldn't...

'Drink!' ordered a voice, as a bottle was put in her hand. She did as she was told. The Woman would only curse her into drinking it anyway.

Bitter and foul, the potion burned its way down her throat. It took seconds for her breathing to steady. Her heart slowed and a second later her mind followed their lead.

Hermione furrowed her brow, blinking slowly as she studied the empty bottle in her hand. It was small and purple.

'Calming Draught,' said a grizzly voice to her left and she remembered everything.

The Woman wasn't here and this wasn't the same as before because Mad-Eye was alive and part of her very own Advanced Guard. Hermione stared at the Auror. His real eye focused on her and his fake one swirled to the back of his head. All she could see was a great, white ball sticking out of his eye socket and she giggled as a sudden thought struck her.

'So...' she slurred. 'Do you just walk around all day seeing penises flapping around?'

Behind Moody, the Head - Albus she thought with another giggle - covered his mouth as his body shook and his eyes twinkled like mad.

Choking noises to her left caused her to turn and her gaze settled on two red headed men. She didn't need to ask who they were. She had seen photographs of them. Long haired and stocky like Charlie, they resembled Molly Weasley perfectly. Their deaths had become the stuff of legend and valour, the kind that American Muggle films imagined and that many secretly fantasized about.

'The Prewett Twins! Fabian and Gideon!' she exclaimed amidst her continued laughter. 'Heroes and... Gingers!'

The brothers raised their eyebrows at the same time, in perfect unison. That only managed to set her off even more.

It took five minutes for the giddiness to subside. It was a common side-effect if the potion was taken on an empty stomach. When it did, Hermione managed to stand on shaky legs. She refused to look up, even as they began speaking to her.

'Do you knows us in the future then?' asked a twin.

Before she could react, his question was swiftly followed by the sound of a muted punch.

'What the fuck?'

'Stupid bastard!' growled the other.

'Gideon, Fabian,' said the Headmaster. 'Allow me to formally introduce you both to Miss Hermione Granger.'

She bit her lip and avoided eye contact. The brunette didn't greet them in return, nor did she answer when she was prompted. The silence that followed was awkward and strained but she was far too overwhelmed to be bothered.

Moody was the only other one who didn't care for pleasantries.

'Yes, yes we're all very fucking friendly. Perhaps later we'll all sit down and have a nice cup of tea but for now we have to go Albus,' he commanded as he scanned the street from the window.

Dumbledore walked to her and held her firmly by the elbow but his eyes were on the twins. 'Did anyone come and go?'

'No,' they both answered.

'It was just like you said Albus,' said the twin on the left. 'The professor hardly ever has guests. She's been alone all day.'

'All day?' scoffed the other twin. 'She's been alone these past two weeks you mean.'

The older wizard chuckled. 'It's not for lack of trying or disinterest on anyone's part, I assure you. Her fan base, though limited, is very loyal and opinionated. This is her real home but she claims a fake address in Liverpool. The building there is constantly broken into.'

'Told you you were wrong. It was too weird that she was always alone,' said the right twin to the other.

'I don't care,' snapped the left twin. His tone betraying him. 'Fabian and I will be going to our positions now Albus... It was nice seeing you again Hermione. Good luck.'

Two sets of steps made their way out, when the sound of a door closing followed she turned to Dumbledore. Her face must've shown her bewilderment.

'Gideon, the twin on the left, was the first to encounter you. His brother had been on the other side of the safe house. After the Death Eaters were successfully run off, both agreed that your appearance was far too suspicious and rather than calling for fellow Order members, Gideon and Fabian brought you directly to me.'

Her eyes moved to the Auror, still at the window.

'Second in command,' said the Headmaster simply. 'He was also the one who set the wards for that particular house. It seemed right to inform him.'

Hermione licked her lips, her eyes turning back to the wizard at her side. 'Why didn't you Obliviate the twins?'

Dumbledore sighed, 'I admit to not having an actual answer to that particular question... Perhaps I knew - even then - that you would require secure transport.' He shook his head. 'Had I not seen their fate through your memories my dear, I perhaps may have.'

The young witch blinked and shifted from one foot to the other. That was the closest they'd ever come to discussing his use of Legilimency on her.

'How much did you see?' she muttered to the floor.

'Not much and nothing in precise detail. The mind is far too complex and you'd not been alert, indeed aware at all. All that I saw were a series of distorted images, out of order and nothing concrete.'

To their left, Moody cut him off. '-the twins are on either end of the street Albus. We need to leave now.'

Desperate eyes ran over the length of the room when Dumbledore nodded. It was only then that she took in her surroundings. They were in a sitting room, from her vantage point she could see a kitchen and a garden. Bland furniture, wooden floors, fading wallpaper on the walls, no personal items anywhere... she was in an Order safe house.

'We will walk to the end of this street and turn right,' said Dumbledore. 'Stay close to me Hermione. Do not leave my side for any reason. Alastor will follow from under an Invisibility Cloak.'

She only heard half of what was said. Her mind was racing, her heartbeat loud in her ears. She was afraid and at the same time apart from all these sensations. The Calming Draught no doubt. Had it not been for the potion, she doubted she would have felt this disconnected or controlled. It was an oddly soothing effect and Hermione understood how easily an addiction to this potion could form.

She drew a blank then, she must have, because she suddenly found herself walking outside and breathing in crisp air. Moonlight and starlight above her, shadows all around her. Every so often sounds of life reached her from an opened window. Laughter and conversations drifted over her, as did the faint sound of an infant crying. Church bells rang somewhere in the distance and a dog began to bark in response.

Her head turned in every direction. Her eyes sought out every corner and as they did, she swore she knew this place.

Their walk only lasted five minutes, if that, and in that time she pondered a stone bench they had passed, completely certain she'd seen it before. And if not that bench then definitely that town square...

Distracted by her thoughts and the utter familiarity of the place she barely caught the Headmaster's words. 'Here we are Miss Granger.'

Standing before the door, she finally recognised the small town and the walked path that led to this particular home.

She had been here before, a few months ago in fact. On a lonely Christmas Eve, starving and afraid. Trembling from cold and fear, expecting an attack at any second she'd barely taken in her surroundings.

She and Harry had been safe until a shuffling old lady directed them down this very street and invited them in...

Before she could stop him, Dumbledore raised a hand and knocked. His many rings sparkling in the moonlight.

Hermione's heart raced and her stomach clenched. Her breathing came in shallow gasps and her body hummed with repressed magic. The distinctive sound of rattling windows once again surrounding her.

'Easy Granger.'

They'd almost died here.

It wasn't safe.

Voldemort knew of this place!

She looked upwards into the very window she and Harry had crashed through.

'...mione? Breathe...'

Blood red eyes had bored into hers, full of fury and rage, the promise of death within their depths. To this day she didn't know how she'd managed to react in time.

'Granger!'

The urge to flee was overwhelming but before she could act on the impulse the door flew open with a bang and creak of its hinges. A wand aimed between the Headmaster's eyes. The glowing tip sufficiently distracting her, pebbles and flower pots crashed down around her and windows abruptly fell silent.

'What biscuits did I bake for you as a child?' asked a sweet, feminine voice. It's owner hidden by shadows.

The Headmaster smiled, completely unfazed by the fact that he was at wand point. 'You never baked biscuits. The only thing you were able to successfully bake were Cauldron Cakes and you most certainly did not bake them for me.'

A slight pause and the wand was lowered. With a click, the lights came on and the tiny shape of Bathilda Bagshot came into view.

A foot shorter than Hermione, the older woman was dressed in a flowery dress. Snow white hair was pulled into a low bun, her eyes twinkling as a smile grew and dimples appeared on the witch's rosy cheeks.

Pale green eyes peered at the pair of them curiously, finally settling on the Headmaster.

'Albus Dumbledore,' said the little witch. 'What the fuck are you doing here?'

Behind them, Moody snorted.

The little witch's eyes scanned the open space behind them. 'Who is that?' she asked sharply. 'Is it the pervert?'

Dumbledore's eyes continued to twinkle. Clearly, he was enjoying this. 'Hello Bathilda. It is lovely to see you again.'

'I know,' she said... and then nothing.

Did not attempt to invite them in, no further questions were given. The miniature witch just stared and smiled. A look that she recognised from Luna so many times before. Her belly ached at the thought and she averted her eyes, blinking away tears unless the professors saw.

'Why are you crying girl?'

Brown eyes widened and she felt heat race up her spine. 'I-I'm not,' stammered Hermione.

The older witch snorted. 'Oh Merlin... no wonder you brought her to me Albus. Come on then. Let's not avoid the inevitable.'

Mrs. Bagshot moved aside granting them entry, the second Dumbledore cleared the threshold however, the tiny witch slammed the door which was followed by a dull crack. Outside, she could hear Moody cursing.

'Perverts with creepy eyes stay outside,' she said simply.

Dumbledore shook beside her, bowing his head as Mrs. Bagshot passed him, inviting them to follow behind.

Hermione didn't know what to think. Her mind fought to relate past images with the new sight before her. It was impossible though. The contrast was like night and day.

There were books on every corner of the sitting room. Bookshelves overflowed. Scrolls littered the room. Letters poured over her dinner table. It was undeniable that a scholar lived here.

It was with no great flourish that she sat down and invited them to do so. Sit however was too much of an exaggeration as the aged witch flopped into her seat. It was at this point that Hermione found herself completely confused.

Was this really the great Bathilda Bagshot?

Besides foulmouthed, she also appeared to be very direct.

'So is this a personal favour or an Order one Albus?'

The Headmaster chuckled. 'I am doing well thank you Bathilda. How are you?'

'Eh,' said the witch with a shrug. 'When one reaches a certain age being as I am becomes a bit of a shock. So I'm exceptionally well. I was just contemplating the pros and cons of offering strangers bits of toffee as I walked down the street in nothing but a thin bathrobe and slippers.'

Dumbledore really did laugh at that. 'Always planning ahead Bathilda?'

The white haired witch nodded. 'Not much else for me to do, I'm afraid. Answering questions via post has become too dangerous. Helping strangers isn't exactly a wise choice these days...'

'A most worthy segue.' Admired the Headmaster with a nod of his head.

'I thought so.'

'Bathilda, may I introduce you to Hermione Granger. Hermione, this is Bathilda Bagshot.'

Hermione did a sort of head spasm thing and she was sure she muttered something because the tiny witch in front of her smiled in return.

'Likewise,' she answered before turning back to Dumbledore. 'So which is it Albus? An old friend's type of situation or something that'll piss off Voldemort?'

The wizard took his time to answer. No doubt trying to find a reasonable answer.

'The latter I'm afraid... though it is a bit of both.'

Hermione's mouth fell open. Had he really just answered her? Honestly?

The famed author studied the powerful wizard. 'She must be very important for you to bring her to me.'

The Headmaster didn't bat an eyelash. 'She is.'

'Does he know of her?'

Dumbledore shook his head. 'She does not exist.'

'And she is to remain as such?' asked the witch with a raised brow.

'She must.'

Bathilda turned to her, 'And is that what you want?'

She didn't answer right away. Truthfully, at this point, she didn't know what she wanted. Finally, she answered with an, 'I have to.'

Professor Bagshot didn't say anything following her reply. She merely stared. After several minutes she spoke. When she did, her voice was quiet. 'Are you scared Hermione?'

She didn't hesitate this time. 'Yes,' she whispered as tears rimmed her eyes.

Mrs. Bagshot turned to the Headmaster, 'Whatever it is that you think she should or shouldn't do, means shit to me Albus. I'll look after her, keep her well and fed, but don't expect me to aid you in building a soldier.'

'I'd thought as much,' said the wizard.

The tiny witch nodded as she stood and made her way out. 'I'll go have some words with the pervert as you two say goodbye.'

Resigned to her fate, Hermione didn't say much as Dumbledore began to speak. All his rules and orders were eerily similar to those she'd received upon entering Order headquarters for the first time at the age of fifteen.

Do not leave the house. Do not attempt to communicate with anyone. Assume you are being watched at all times and act accordingly. Be safe.

She felt like a child again and even though she hadn't really paid attention she nodded along, humming every so often.

It was all surreal. She felt like she was all at once floating and watching a film in the cinema. Hermione saw it all happening through a screen and couldn't relate it to herself because what she saw happening, didn't feel real.

All too soon, Dumbledore made to leave. She latched on to him, her grip strong and desperate. 'Please?!'

The wizard placed a hand over hers. Dull blue eyes bore into hers and though he said nothing, she understood perfectly. There was no going back. This was her life now and she needed to accept it. Gradually, she let him go and so, with a parting nod, he turned to leave as Mrs. Bagshot entered the room.

As he walked, the Headmaster sneezed and Hermione blinked. It was such a normal, human thing to do that it actually left her stunned. It was ridiculous of course, Albus Dumbledore was a person after all... but still. It had never actually occurred to her that he was not above simple, human things.

Brown eyes watched the powerful wizard walking away. 'Bless you,' she murmured.

Mrs. Bagshot eyed the Headmaster's retreating back as well, settling back on Hermione only after the sound of a door closing rang throughout the house. 'Did you know that it was believed that with a sneeze all bodily functions stopped, including your heart? That's why it's customary to say bless you, because you were blessed to have your heart restart.'

Hermione blinked. She... had known that actually...

The tiny witch nodded. 'It is also physically impossible to keep one's eyes open during a sneeze. It's an involuntary process.'

The curly haired witch blinked slowly. Completely confused and not knowing how to respond, or even if she was expected to.

Apparently not as the older woman made her way to her book heavy sitting room. With a head nod and a gesture of a wrinkled hand, Hermione absentmindedly followed behind. She felt like a lost puppy and then, all at once, ashamed as she flinched and stumbled when the tiny historian pulled out her wand.

Mrs. Bagshot didn't say anything when it happened. Did not acknowledge it at all in fact. A slight pause, the only indicator that the witch had even seen. The older woman's movements became much slower though. From the corner of her eye, she could see the shorter witch studying her.

Thankfully, a rushing sound broke the awkward silence as two bottles flew through the air. Seconds later, she found a pop shoved under her nose.

Mrs. Bagshot motioned to a large brown box in the middle of the room. With a jolt, the curly haired witch realised that what she'd mistaken as a desk was in fact a telly. All wooden panels and ridiculously large, it was a far cry from the sleek, black plastic she was accustomed to.

'Sit,' ordered the tiny witch.

Hermione did. Still clutching her pathetic little bag with one hand, a Coke firmly in the other, both were held close to her chest. She watched as the magical historian flicked her wand at the television. A smile on her face as it roared to life with a familiar tune that surprised the younger witch.

Professor Bagshot turned to her smiling, white eyebrows raised expectantly, all dimples and rosy cheeks. 'Do you like Doctor Who?'