Chapter One

Hermione's POV

The four stood outside Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Hermione looked anxiously at Harry, to test out his mood. He looked paler than usual, that much was obvious. His hand was clamped down tightly on Ginny's and she noticed his Adam's apple bobbing uncertainly in his throat. Ginny always calmed Harry down, whether it was her intent or was his constant in life, and Hermione was beyond grateful for the youngest Weasley. Harry was the first to step into the door, followed by Ginny. Hermione waited anxiously outside grabbing Ron by the elbow, stopping him from entering.

"Do you think he's—do you think Harry's ready for this?" Hermione timidly asked Ron, an eyebrow quirked. Ron pursed his lips then turned his head towards the door before slowly looking back at Hermione.

"Yeah, I think so. It's been three years." Ron decided on before moving forward. Hermione tilted her head as she watched Ron walk through the door. She took a deep breath, then followed him in.

It was always strange to Hermione, how places could haunt someone. Not in the usual way, with ghosts and spirits, but with memories. Grimmauld Place held many memories for the four of them. Many of those memories were buried in sorrow and hurt, it's odd how the past can feel so present at times. As the four former Hogwarts students walked into the kitchen, Hermione took a seat next to Ron and across from Harry and Ginny.

"I'll help clean out the kitchen with Ginny," Hermione offered to Harry as the four young adults sat around the table.

"It probably won't need two people," Harry muttered as he ruffled up his hair absentmindedly.

"It hasn't been out of use that long." His words were a bit harsher than she thought he had meant them to be, but she knew he had good intentions. It had been three years since the end of the war. Harry hadn't wanted to return to Grimmauld Place at all, but with a great amount of persuasion from the other three; he had revisited it a few times. This time however, they had business to do.

The plan was to clean it up and see if there was anything left worth selling. It had been Harry's idea initially; he wanted to take the profits that he collected from Grimmauld Place and donate them to the restoration projects that took place all around the wizarding world. By now, Hogwarts was nearly completely restored, but numerous other places that were affected by the war still had yet to be fixed.

Hermione thought the idea was wonderful. She had been the only one of the three of them to return to Hogwarts, and she experienced the outcome of the war first hand. The lives of numerous students had completely been shattered and turned upside down. Hermione didn't have to relay this information to Harry; he knew this all too well.

"Er, okay then." Hermione said a bit awkwardly as she looked towards Ron. The redhead shrugged and gave her a small smile. She loved Ron, she truly did. Just not in the way that everyone thought. She and Ron dated briefly after the war, but they both found it had been more out of necessity of needing someone than anything else. It was soon known between the two of them that they were much better as friends.

The four of them wandered into the living room and Ginny put her hands onto her hips and sighed.

"I'll get to work on the kitchen then," She nodded her head back the other way and gave Harry one last smile. Hermione wandered up the stairs slowly, soaking up the musty smell of the house.

When she reached the steps, she looked down over the railing and watched her two friends. She glanced towards the left, and saw that the library door was open.

"Harry, I'm going to go clean up the library!" Hermione called from the top of the steps, she looked down upon the first floor. Harry lifted his head up and lazily gave her thumbs up. She smiled at her friend. He was struggling since the war ended. He was starting to smile more, but that had more to do with Ginny being in his life than himself actually healing. Hermione was convinced that he was plagued with a case of survivor's guilt; something that Hermione thought was completely rational yet utterly ridiculous.

"Course you are, Hermione!" Ron teased from the first floor and Hermione scoffed loudly enough for him to hear. After Fred had died, it had taken a lot of work to get the Weasley clan back to their normal selves. Things had been different since the war ended. They had won, but the cost was pricey. So many innocent lives had died. It was enough to scar someone, Hermione knew personally. She stared down at the physical scars she bore herself. The word mudblood was carved into her arm, forever tainting her fair skin. She lifted a hand absentmindedly to her ribs, where Dolohov had cursed her. The scars they had weren't just physical, though.

The outcome of the war had been rough on everyone, especially Harry. He blamed himself for countless deaths; Remus, Tonks, Sirius, Moody, Fred, and Dumbledore. Hermione knew these names would forever be imprinted in Harry's subconscious.

Hermione fiddled through the books, pausing on only a few that intrigued her. The first one to catch her eye was a smaller book, bound in worn brown leather, with the words, Fata Tempus. Hermione held the small book in her hands, and inspected it closely. She wasn't sure what the words meant, but she had a hunch that they were Latin. She smoothed her hands over the binding once more, before opening the book.

The pages were filled with writing she did not recognize. It looked as though it was a very old book, and the scribbling on the book made it almost look like a diary. She flipped through the pages until one caught her eye. Scribbled over and over.

Actum est in tempore casus tenentes in manibus.

Hermione slowly said the words, curious as to what they could mean. Then, as if a switch had gone off she felt a pull, deep down within her. The tugging she felt on her stomach was almost constricting. She felt as though her insides were stirring around and felt an abnormal amount of pressure on her body. Her eyes clamped tightly, as she struggled to breathe. After a moment, the awful sensation was done, and Hermione opened her eyes. She was still the Grimmauld Place library, but the atmosphere felt different, almost dirtier. She rubbed her eyes as she attempted to stand up, not realizing that she had fallen to the ground only moments earlier. Hermione absentmindedly searched the ground for the book, but to her astonishment, it wasn't on the ground.

"Ron," Hermione attempted to yell, but it came out as a weak cough that got caught in her throat. She still felt dizzy but she pushed herself weakly out of the room. "Harry, I don't feel so well," She spoke as she wobbled out of the room. "I'm kind of nauseous," She added as she clamped a hand over her stomach. She heard hushed talking on the floor below her, and was suddenly annoyed that no one was responding to her. She slowly made her way down the stairs, relying heavily on the rail.

"Ron," She tried again as she made her way into the kitchen. She expected to find Ron there, probably taking a break from sorting through all of the junk, when instead she found someone she believed to be dead.

"Hermione?" Remus Lupin stood in front of her. He was pale and sickly looking, but very much alive nonetheless. Hermione was about to question how the hell something like this could happen, when her knees gave way and she slammed to the ground. Everything around her went dark.

Hermione's head rocked back and forth, and she shifted her body three or four times before peaking her eyes open. She took in her surroundings slowly; blinking her eyes open and looking around for the first first time. The ceiling was a dull white, with cracks webbing out from the center. The room was dark, but fairly clean, omit from the musty smell that lingered in the room. She involuntarily let out a groan as she attempted to sit up. She heard voices outside the room she reached for her wand involuntary, an instinct she had picked up during the war.

She was in a bedroom, it looked somewhat familiar, and it had the familiar smell that Grimmauld Place carried. The similar architecture in the room lead Hermione to believe she was still there, but she was unsure of how she got in this position.

The last thing she remembered was sorting through books and helping Harry clear out the house. She rubbed her head and swung her feet over the side of the bed. The noise outside of the room grew closer, causing Hermione to freeze in place. The door slowly creaked open, and standing there, smiling down at her was Albus Dumbledore, with Remus and Sirius following closely behind.

Hermione inhaled sharply looking at the three men. They were dead! Hermione gripped her wand tight and pointed it at the three men wearily. Her arm was visibly shaking, and her breath trembled.

"How?" She uttered out. Sirius took a step forward, and she pointed her wand directly at him, her eyes narrowed. "You're supposed to be dead!" She hissed at Sirius, who flinched at her words.

"All of you are!" She began to breathe heavily and tears streamed down her face. Seeing the three men brought back awful memories of the war. Her scars tingled against her skin.

"Miss Granger, we are who you think we are." Dumbledore softly said as he stepped a bit closer to her.

"Prove it," The words were out of Hermione's mouth quicker than she expected them to be. Her lip curled into a snarl and she motioned with her hand for them to do something. The three men looked at each other, each more unsure than the next.

Sirius stepped forward first, he shrugged his shoulders then in the blink of an eye, transformed into a large black dog. Hermione wasn't sure whether she was more relieved that it was actually Sirius, or horrified. He transformed back quickly then lifted his arms up in the air, as if to say, ta-da.

"Unfortunately, I won't be able to do that." Remus said as he put his hands into his pockets, causing Hermione to shift. "But I know your boggart." Remus said, and Hermione blinked. "Professor McGonagall, failing you." He added with a small smile. After the war, Hermione was certain that her boggart would be much worse, but she refrained from saying anything. Hermione nodded her head briefly then turned to Dumbledore.

"Why would we be with someone who isn't Dumbledore?" Sirius interjected quickly and Hermione shot him a quick glare, but nodded her head anyways.

"Miss Granger, may I ask how old you are?" Dumbledore raised a brow. Hermione nodded her head.

"Twenty-one." She spoke quietly and closed her eyes again. She wanted to go back to sleep, her head throbbed.

"Hermione, it seems you have landed yourself in quite the predicament." Dumbledore said finally. Hermione nodded her head, urging him to continue. "It seems you have traveled nearly seven years into the past."

Dumbledore's words hit Hermione like a punch to the gut. A million thoughts ran through her mind. Her head was pounding and she could feel herself sweating. She looked up at the three and then closed her eyes tight. Her head was beating hard and she could hardly think.

"Seven years." Hermione repeated and Dumbledore nodded.

"How?" Hermione asked.

"We were hoping that you would be able to explain that," Dumbledore's soft voice haunted Hermione.

"I don't know," Hermione confessed as she rubbed her aching head. "I don't remember anything."

"I'm willing to guess that your memory will return soon, in the meantime, how are you feeling?" Dumbledore wondered as he adjusted his glasses higher up on his nose. Hermione shrugged and looked at the three men. She had spent years mourning each of their losses, she had cried, for all of their deaths. It stung.

"Fine," Hermione retorted quickly. "I think."