Chapter 2

Hermione steeled herself for a moment, reminding herself that everything was going to be fine and to just act normal, before pushing open the door to the Auror office. It was her first day back and she was dreading people asking about where she had been, or worse, offering their sympathy. Worst of all she was dreading bumping into Ron. They hadn't spoken since the day he left, save via owl to arrange ending the rental contract on their shared apartment. He had occasionally elaborated in his letters to include some form of apology, or an enquiry about how she was doing. She hadn't responded in kind, instead keeping the content of the letters focused on the job.

Just focus on the job, she told herself. She had always been good at that.

She had almost made it to her desk when she was accosted by Roger Davies.

'Hey Hermione, long time no see. Been up to anything fun?'

Roger was harmless enough, but his eager, optimistic energy was the opposite of what she wanted right now. The last she knew he had also been working under Ron as a newly graduated Auror, so she wasn't sure what had been said.

'Just… having some time off…' she said stiffly, hoping he would get the message.

He did not.

'Oh yeah? Ron mentioned something about a trip to Marseille. Sounded like fun!' he smiled and she felt her insides turn to ice. She clenched her jaw and turned towards her desk.

'You know…' he continued, like an annoying mosquito, 'I was just finishing up the filing on some of your jobs whilst you were away. I just wanted to say that your codebreaking work from last month was seriously impressive.'

'Thanks Roger,' she said dismissively, and after hovering for a few more awkward seconds, he thankfully left her alone. She sighed and sunk her face into her hands. So what if Ron took a trip to France? He was perfectly entitled to travel wherever he pleased, and it was no longer any concern of hers. So what if it was her favourite city, and the place they had been planning for their next trip together? It made logical sense; why waste some perfectly good, thoroughly researched holiday plans?

She clenched her hands into fists and pushed them into her temples.

Perhaps he took his new lover; whoever she was.

Hermione never cared to find out who. She didn't want to know. In fact, when he broke the news she didn't shout, didn't argue, didn't even cry. She just felt like her insides were crumbling in slow motion, whilst the outside showed nothing but silent shock. He had said more words afterwards, but she hadn't heard them, as if someone had cast a muffliato charm. In her daze she had turned, snatched up a handful of Floo from the fireplace and left without saying a word. She hadn't been back to the flat since.

She checked her watch. She had thirty minutes until her job briefing, and so busied herself tidying her desk which had lay abandoned for a few weeks, trying to push her dark thoughts aside.

At 9:15 Hermione made her way down to the 3rd floor and crossed the atrium into the Department of Magical Transportation. Fortunately she hadn't run into Ron in the office, and for that she was grateful. She followed the winding corridors until she came to a set of heavy doors which led to the experimental laboratories. She flashed her badge and the guard admitted her. Finally she arrived at room 7B and was greeted at the door by Harry.

'You alright?' he asked. She nodded stiffly, and he nodded back, before pulling her into a hug. She sighed against his shoulder and squeezed him back, hoping to convey the extent of her gratitude. He had been the one to pick her up off the floor when she had arrived in his Floo grate a broken mess. He, along with Ginny, had been the ones to pack up her flat and move her things to Grimmauld Place. He had also been the one to grant her as much leave as she needed and taken care of her workload. Sometimes it pays for your boss to be your best friend, she thought. She also thought he bore the responsibilities of Head Auror remarkably well, learning to trust, to delegate and to lead from behind, rather than always being the first to charge head-first into danger as he did in the past.

'You're going to be fine,' he reassured her, and she nodded again and flashed a half-smile.

'Shall we?'

With a smile he pushed open the door and admitted them both inside.

The room was shaped like a round auditorium, with a circular walkway around the edge overlooking the enormous machine which sat below them. Hermione gripped the handrail and stared at the machine, feeling the knot in her stomach tightening. The Chronoflux looked magnificent, standing over three meters tall with light dancing off its thousands of tiny lenses. Distorted shadows were cast onto the walls as the technicians tinkered with the lens positioning. On one side of the machine there was what resembled a time turner, only much bigger and made from thick, black metal. On the other a simple wooden chair, which looked rather out of place beside the extravagant machine.

Hermione followed Harry around to a large desk on the other side of the circular walkway. They exchanged brief pleasantries with the chief engineer before Harry handed her the mission briefing. She scanned the familiar text to remind herself. Her target was Rudolphus Lestrange, who's image glared up at her from the page.

She watched as one of the technicians carefully uncorked a glass vial and loaded what looked like silver strands of hair into the machine. Memories, she recognised, extracted from a captured Death Eater and pertaining to an exact meeting, on the 26th January 1980. The lenses whirred and rotated, each clicking into their precise position.

Her job was simple. Go in, place a tracking spell on Lestrange, and then apparate to the extraction point within the 5 minute safe limit. The Ministry had been working on this technology for three years, and now it was finally time to use it for real. She had aced all the training and was ready. She exhaled deeply, then felt a hand on her shoulder.

Harry squeezed her shoulder and offered her a reassuring smile.

'Don't worry, I'll be back in 5 minutes,' she smiled in return, before descending the steps of the auditorium and taking her place on the wooden chair. The huge machine towered over her making her feel very small, and she found herself absentmindedly thumbing the tooth in her pocket to steady her nerves. A young witch was fussing with her hair, disguising her with straight, dark hair and a heavy fringe. The chief engineer's voice suddenly cracked through the room speakers, confirming the machine's settings and repeating the importance of making the extraction point.

"Remember, whatever you do, you must be at the extraction point within 5 minutes. Abandon the mission if you have to. If you fail, the contingency extraction is the same location exactly 24 hours later."

She nodded and set her watch. After 24 hours there was no contingency.

Testing had revealed that staying for 24 hours was dangerous enough; no one knew what the dangers were beyond that point. She didn't want to think about it.

Hermione Granger never fails, she reminded herself.

A technician heaved the enormous time turner and she watched as it groaned and began to turn. The Chronoflux whirred to life and the sparkling lenses dazzled her. She took one final glance at Harry who wore a serious expression before everything began spinning so fast that she could no longer make anything out in the sea of colours that danced past her vision. She squeezed her eyes shut to stop the nausea from setting in and waited. After a few more seconds the spinning stopped and she landed with a thud on a soft floor.

It was dark and she felt wet leaf litter between her fingers. She quickly rose to her feet, heart beating fast from the adrenaline, and looked around for a place to hide. The Chronoflux should have pinpointed mere moments before the donated memory. She quickly settled into a bush, just before she heard a hushed rasp from nearby.

'I thought perhaps you weren't coming,' it hissed.

'I apologise. Interrogation took rather… longer than expected. I'll say one thing for muggles, they may be stupid, but they do love to play the hero. We got what we wanted out of them eventually though.'

The second voice was higher. Younger. From her hiding place Hermione could make out two tall figures dressed in black, their faces shaded beneath dark hoods. But which one was her target? She checked her watch. Four minutes remaining.

'Did you bring it?' asked the first voice, glancing around as if nervous.

'Of course.'

'Well, give it over then,' it said impatiently.

'And what of my payment?' asked the younger.

In an instant the raspy voice had drawn his wand. Hermione saw a bright red flash and the younger wizard writing on the floor in pain, no more than three meters from her hiding place. She could see his face now, probably scarcely 20, and not her target.

'Consider it payment enough that I don't kill you right now, Avery,' he spat, wand still drawn.

Two and a half minutes left.

Hermione rose into a half crouch and began creeping forward, trying to get as close as possible without being detected, but getting within touching distance was going to be tricky. She drew her wand, took a steadying breath, and whispered,

'Periculum'.

Thick black smoke erupted from her wand, and the two men shouted in alarm. Hermione wasted no time running at Lestrange and whispered,

'Invenio vinctum,' as her wand connected with his back.

Then she was running, red blasts erupting around her as she ran. She ran as fast as she could, pushing twigs and leaves out the way, until with a thud she collided with something solid. Before she could make out what it was she felt a blow to the back of her head and everything went black.