Disclaimer - I do not own Harry Potter.

A/N - I have been utterly blown away by the reaction to this story. I can't believe I now have 82 reviews! Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed, favourited and followed. I am a little in awe of the fact that the Shrieking Shack Society facebook group has seen fit to recommend my work, too. Utterly humbled. Thank you.

-.-.-.-.-

Hermione didn't know how long she cried. Her heart ached for the brother who would not even be born for another year. For her other friends who would never know her. This her.

She had been stranded in time for a little over a week and it seemed like her mind had finally caught up with the fact that she was all alone in a world populated by ghosts. And so she cried. She cried until the gasping sobs became snuffles and whimpers. She cried until her nose ran and her eyes swelled. Eventually, she cried herself to sleep.

The next morning, the young animagus awoke in her bed with no recollection of how she got there. She was still dressed in the clothes she had worn to the Ministry yesterday, wrapped in the old quilt that usually decorated the back of the wingback chair in the corner of her room.

Her room. It felt strange to call it that, and yet it had become her sanctuary in this time. Once they had decided on her cover as his niece, Moody had insisted that she have proper furnishings in her room. Up to that point, the room had remained as empty as it had been that first time she woke up in it (Hermione had kept all her belongings tidied away in her beaded bag) but Uncle Alastor had put his foot down. Apparently, it would look bad if anyone saw her total lack of possessions and less than spartan furniture.

So a large chest and several bookcases, as well as the chair and an assortment of soft furnishings, had been removed from storage in the attic. She rather liked the way it had turned out. The curtains were a little chintzy for her taste, but they provided a comforting reminder of her childhood home.

This morning, that comforting reminder was more of a heart-rending mockery of all she would never again have. The barely-healed wound on her heart from the loss of her parents had been ripped open once more and the loss of her Harry was rubbing a great big vat of salt into it.

Before she could be overwhelmed by her emotions once again, she abandoned her Gryffindor courage and hid. Under the worn quilt. Curled up as a thoroughly miserable cat.

-.-.-.-.-

She dozed in cat form for a couple more hours. She would probably have slept away the day, but by mid-morning Uncle Alastor had decided she was done moping. He stomped into her room and wore a (very) brief expression of confusion at the lack of miserable girl. Then he whipped the blanket off the bushy-furred tabby.

"I'd forgotten you could do that," he grunted at the cat. "Just don't forget you're unregistered and it's currently safer to stay that way."

Her surprise at the fact that Moody had forgotten such a tactically important piece of information about her had Hermione pulling her nose out from under her paw and cocking her head at him before she realised that she was supposed to be hiding from the world.

"Enough wallowing for today, Lass."

The cat simply stared with a baleful expression before turning to tuck her nose back under her tail.

"Hermione, enough! I know you've lost people. I know it hurts, but now it's time to suck it up and get back to work."

In an instant the curly-haired witch was back on the bed, her eyes alight with fury. "Suck it up? When you've lost everyone you ever loved and woken up surrounded by ghosts, then you can talk about sucking it up!"

The old auror was completely unfazed by her outburst. Before she could build up a head of steam and begin what promised to be a lengthy rant, he cut her off.

"Don't you know how lucky you are, Lass? You may have lost everyone, yes, but they are not dead. These ghosts you are complaining about are alive. You have already saved one foolish boy from inferi. So suck it up and get back to work!"

Hermione stared, stunned, at her adopted uncle. The raw emotion he had conveyed without once raising his voice had been the shock her system needed to remind her of her resolve. Even before she introduced herself to Moody when she first appeared in this time the young witch had determined that she would do her damndest to stop the Wizarding World from imploding. She had just temporarily forgotten it.

Hermione Granger was a soldier. She had been given no choice in the matter. From the troll encounter in her first year at Hogwarts, she had been set on the path. After her sixth year, while on the run with Harry and Ron, she had learned the most important thing about being a soldier.

Focus. Keep busy. Don't allow your emotions to get the better of you.

They had rarely had more than a few minutes, sometimes an hour or two of safety, in which to truly let their emotions out. Even then, she had always been conscious of her mission. Aware that if she gave up, the war would be lost. She knew how to use her occlumency and keep herself focused, even when all hope seemed lost.

She had let that guard down. A year of peace and security at Hogwarts and she had forgotten. She flushed at the thought of her selfish wallowing. To think that she'd lost sight of her mission already was plain embarrassing.

Eyes lowered and cheeks stained red, Hermione spoke in a much calmer voice. "Thank you, Uncle. I let myself get carried away. You taught me better – let it out then suck it up. I think I'm ready to get back to work."

"Good girl. Suppressing your emotions isn't healthy, but wallowing is just as bad."

Hermione rose with a cat-like stretch and preceded her mentor to the door. Shoulders back and a confident, focused expression on her face she could barely be recognised as the same girl that had been curled up in misery that morning.

With a cheeky smirk, she turned and called to the old auror."Come on, Uncle, we've a war to win!"

-.-.-.-.-

Guilt was not a feeling that Hermione Granger was unfamiliar with. Unfortunately, it was one with which she was reacquainted as she ate the late breakfast Moody had insisted they have before any battles were fought. She had picked up that morning's Prophet and the headline made her eggs curdle in her stomach.

Missing Black Heir Declared Dead.

Regulus Black, Heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, has today been confirmed as deceased. The newly graduated wizard disappeared on his way home from his last term at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry ten days ago. He was last seen leaving the castle and is thought to have boarded the Hogwarts Express with his Slytherin classmates, though he was not seen getting off at Platform 9 ¾.

On the day that he disappeared, young Regulus managed to send a message to his cousin, Narcissa Malfoy nee Black, which implied that he was running and in fear for his life. Not a week later, the Black family has confirmed that their enchanted tapestry has recorded a death date for the young wizard. As you probably already know, family tapestries are tied to the blood of each member of the House and as such are legally recognised recordings of births and deaths...

Hermione stopped reading at that point. She could guess that the rest of the article would be speculating how and why Regulus died, and most probably starting a few outrageous rumours in the process. She would read it properly later when her head wasn't swimming with guilt.

All that time she had spent wallowing in her pain, she had forgotten Regulus. The last week had been focused almost completely on revising and then taking her NEWTs, and while most of that time had been spent in the company of the Slytherin wizard they had both been purposely ignoring the reason for his seclusion. The Prophet had forcefully reminded her of the fact that she wasn't the only person to have recently lost everyone.

-.-.-.-.-

After breakfast, Hermione and Moody made their way over to Regulus' safehouse. The younger wizard greeted them enthusiastically and Hermione's guilty feelings doubled at the realization that he had been all alone for the past two days while she was at the Ministry sitting her exams.

The jovial atmosphere quickly soured as Moody passed him the paper. Confirmation that Kreacher fulfilled his orders and adjusted the tapestry made his total separation from the rest of the world suddenly become real. His Slytherin mask cracked minutely, but it was enough for Hermione to notice. She restrained herself, knowing that the reserved young man was unlikely to appreciate what Ron had dubbed the 'Hermy-Hug', and showed her support with a hand on his shoulder and her silent understanding.

Moody didn't stay long. Miserable atmosphere notwithstanding, he was expected at the Ministry after lunch.

-.-.-.-.-

They sat in silence for a few more minutes before Hermione spoke. "I know it sucks, being alone. I've lost everyone I ever loved. You might as well have lost them too, since they think you are dead. But really we are lucky, because we might just be the only two people ever to have lost everyone without actually losing them.

"They are all alive. Maybe not how I remember them. Maybe not remembering you as you really are. But alive! It hurts now, but one day – when we have destroyed all the Horcruxes and Riddle is nothing more than a stain on the carpet – one day you won't have to hide anymore. You'll get them all back. So enough moping – we've got a war to win!"

Regulus raised a single, incredulous eyebrow at her speech. Hermione blushed scarlet.

"Ok, so Uncle Alastor might have had to drag me out of bed and scold me to get me to stop hiding. Literally – I spent most of this morning as a cat."

Regulus smirked at this confession. Where his eyes had dulled upon reading his obituary, they now shone a little brighter. He was no longer closing himself off to the world and Hermione didn't care if it was the motivational speech or the image of Moody telling off a cat that did it. She wasn't going to let him fall.

-.-.-.-.-

Hermione spent the next couple of weeks almost exclusively at Regulus' safe house. The small living room of the cottage had been redecorated – along one wall was a timeline of events as Hermione remembered them. Two bold lines divided the wall horizontally into three sections, and each third was further divided into ten boxes – one for each month covering the next two and a half years. Each box was liberally decorated with colour-coded pieces of parchment noting important events, births, deaths and anything else that Hermione thought might be relevant.

Regulus had ranted for almost an hour when he discovered the fate that awaited Sirius. They might not like each other much at this point in their lives, but Regulus had always loved his brother and the idea that he would spend a decade in Azkaban despite being innocent had invoked the infamous Black temper. When he finally ran out of expletives, he locked eyes with Hermione and calmly stated that they were going to fix it.

The wall opposite Hermione's timeline was covered with all the information they had on the horcruxes. What they were, where they were hidden and how they had been retrieved in the future. Underneath the information about the diary was a bold notation: collected 22nd June. The evil little book was currently being stored in a highly warded safe in Moody's interrogation shack until they could decide how best to destroy it.

The trio were fairly confident that getting the diadem would be a simple matter of visiting Hogwarts (preferably when the Headmaster was away) and so much of the last fortnight had been spent focusing on how they would retrieve the locket. Although she had not been there, whilst they were on the run Hermione had convinced Harry to give her a detailed account of what had occurred in the cave. She hadn't wanted to be unprepared for any protections they might encounter when recovering the rest of the horcruxes.

Hermione and Regulus had spent many hours debating the two major issues in the mission – how to get more than one person onto the island when the only way they knew to get across would allow only a single adult, and how to get the potion out of the basin without drinking it. So far, they had made very little progress.

It was yet another of these discussions that was interrupted by Moody on the afternoon of the 14th. Hermione and Regulus were so engrossed in their argument (Regulus was adamant they could just fly across the lake, while Hermione was equally sure that doing so would trigger something unpleasant) that neither noticed the floo activating. It wasn't until he shouted CONSTANT VIGILANCE three inches from Hermione's ear that they even realised they had company.

Hermione narrowed her chocolate eyes at her adopted uncle and silently swore vengeance. "Uncle Alastor, to what do we owe the pleasure?"

Though her words were polite, her gritted teeth and the somewhat frosty tone made it abundantly clear how much she appreciated the assault on her eardrums.

Her answer came in the form of a thick parchment envelope that was slapped onto the coffee table in front of her. She recognised the Ministry seal and with a sudden jolt, she realised that it must be her NEWT results. Butterflies swarmed in her belly as her nerves thrilled through her body. She couldn't prevent the slight shake in her hand as she reached for the letter.

Regulus' grey eyes sparkled with amusement. He would be mocking her for months about this. She was acting like a mediocre Hufflepuff afraid to discover how many As they had, not the genius Gryffindor he knew her to be.

Of course, Regulus was right. Hermione passed with straight Os and was the only one of the three who seemed surprised at the fact.

While the youngsters were focused on the exam results, Moody had been admiring the wall art. He had spent most of the last two weeks inundated with paperwork in preparation for the new intake of the Auror academy that would be starting in August, and so had not had a chance to see what Hermione and Regulus had spent their days doing.

As an auror, he was impressed (though not surprised) with the thorough and methodical way the information had been presented. He knew he would need to spend a good number of hours properly going over all the details, but that would have to wait until he could take a day away from the office.

Noticing that the excited chatter had quieted, Moody turned back to the expectant gaze of his young charges. "Nice work," he acknowledged with a wave at the two walls, "you've obviously put a lot of work in."

The young witch and wizard preened at his praise.

"Which is why I am giving you both a day off. Tomorrow."

It took a little effort for the old auror not to show his amusement at their completely baffled expressions.

"All work and no play makes Merlin a dull wizard after all," he continued, eyes twinkling and the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips.

"What do you mean a day off?" Hermione demanded, eyes gleaming with a look of stubborn refusal.

"Just what I said." He turned his focus to Regulus. "You, young man, are to spend the day outside."

Regulus scowled but remained defiantly silent. Moody noticed the way his eyes flickered to the bookcases that covered the third wall of the room. With a smug wave of his wand, he warded them with an invisible barrier that would prevent the sneaky little Slytherin from doing anything constructive.

Before the younger man could protest, Moody removed a small parcel from his pocket and enlarged it. A stack of magazines landed with a thud on the coffee table and Regulus blushed scarlet when he recognized the cover for Playwizard on the top of the stack.

While Regulus was still sputtering over the stack of dirty magazines, Moody enlarged a second parcel. It was suspiciously broom-shaped. With a wink he handed it over. "A little incentive to actually do as you are told. The wards go all the way to the boundary hedge, but make sure you don't fly past them."

Regulus' whole face lit up with a grin. It had been far too long since he'd last been on a broom. His mother had insisted he was not allowed to take his Comet to school this year for fear that he would be distracted from gaining the perfect NEWT results she demanded of him.

Hermione, who had been eyeing the stack of magazines with disgust, looked even less pleased at sight of the broom. "I hope you don't expect me to fly."

"Of course not, lass. You're coming with me. Young James Potter is getting married tomorrow and I've got a plus one on my invitation!"