A/N: For my beautiful friend, MrsRen. I hope you enjoy this silliness. Please note that I have taken oodles of liberties with how time travel works for the sake of brevity, and Theo having a predilection for tinkering is inspired by mightbewriting's Theo in Sight and Seeing (go read it now. it's bloody brilliant) Many thanks to the lovely QuinTalon for pre-reading this last minute like a champ!

Time is a funny thing.

Sometimes it moves so fast you're barely able to register its presence before it moves on, and other times it passes at a snail's pace, the moment slowing down until each detail is catalogued with such clarity, you feel as if you're looking at the world through a magnifying glass.

On the day of the Great House-elf Incident of 2009—also known as the Great House-elf Incident of 1973, depending on who you asked—Harry wasn't quite capable of discerning which version of time he was experiencing. Perhaps both all at once in a dizzying swirl of blurry speed and crystal clear focus.

It started off as a normal day, though one minor detail was crucial to understanding how the rest unfolded.

Harry Potter did not do birthdays.

That is to say, he didn't do his own. No, for Harry, the last day of July was far from a special occasion; it was simply another day. He'd spent far too much of his adolescence with a blinding spotlight pointing at him, and he didn't care for any more attention.

Hermione Granger, however, did do birthdays. Oh Merlin, how she did them. She'd told him that her parents had always made birthdays special when she was young, and she wanted him to experience that too.

Though he really didn't care, Hermione did, and so each year he grumbled on in the days leading up to his birthday but always perked up in the evening and conceded to a pub night with a small group of friends.

In the twenty-eighth year of Harry's existence, his birthday fell on a Friday, and he'd gotten off work early for a change, so he stopped at home for a change of clothes and went for a run.

His worn trainers slapping against the pavement in time to the beat of his heart centred him and kept him grounded. By the time he'd circled back to the building he lived in with Hermione, he was red-cheeked, messy-haired, and dripping sweat, but in that moment entirely clear of mind and free of the shadows of war that still haunted him a decade down the road.

Whatever he'd been expecting to see as he shouldered open the door to the little flat they shared, it definitely wasn't the scene before him.

Hermione stood in their kitchen on a rickety wooden chair backed up to the counter, a tiny pair of jean shorts barely covering her bum and her hair pulled back into a haphazard ponytail.

Fuck, she's pretty.

The window behind the sink was wide open, and her wand was trained on something floating there. "Oh, hello, Harry. Off early?" she asked nonchalantly, never taking her eyes off the window and carrying on as if her behaviour was perfectly normal, thank you very much.

Setting his bag on the floor with a thunk, he walked to her, propping a hip on the edge of the counter beside where she stood. "Afternoon, love. What have you got there?" It was always better to ask Hermione questions rather than try to figure it out himself; he was usually wrong and besides, he did love to hear her wax poetic about whatever passion she was pursuing for the day.

"Theo and I finally got our modified Time-Turner figured out!"

Hermione's unlikely friendship with Theodore Nott came to life one evening at an attendance required Ministry party, lamenting about infuriating bureaucracy and pointless busywork over flutes of champagne.

By the next week, they'd both quit their paper-pusher jobs at the Ministry to start their own company. They took antiquated devices and contraptions—updating them for a modern world—and applied them in all sorts of situations, many being organizations and families in need. Theo did the tinkering, and Hermione did the face-to-face work. With Theo's money backing them, they were able to make a difference. Hermione's out-of-the-blue career change was a bit to process at first, but she was happy, and that was the only thing that truly mattered to Harry.

"Ah. And may I ask why you're floating it out the window?"

"Oh, because it needs to charge in the sun to work properly. It's far more powerful now with Theo's updates."

With a flourish, the Time-Turner floated back to her hand, and she pulled it over her head and hopped down from the chair, turning and surging up on her toes to meet Harry's mouth. She kissed him with the same enthusiasm she had for her work; so sweet and strong. He was a lucky bastard.

When she pulled back, smiling up at him, something on the table caught his eye.

Upon it sat one of those tote bags—the reusable kind they took with them to the grocers—with clothes and rags spilling out of it.

"Hermione?"

"Hmm?" Bright smile still on her face, she turned to follow his gaze, saying, "Oh that? Just some old clothes to take to the charity shop."

When she was lying, she had a tell. He knew she liked to think she had an excellent poker face, but he always knew by the slightly higher pitch of her voice, sometimes—like now—accompanied by fidgeting, her fingers plucking at the delicate chain around her neck.

Catching her chin in his fingers and forcing her to meet his gaze, he asked, "What aren't you telling me, love?"

The gears turning in her head were clear to see as she weighed whether to lie some more or just let him in on whatever she was up to. And she was up to something; he knew that for a fact.

"I'll tell you, but you have to promise you won't stop me."

"I can't do that without knowing what you're doing." Merlin knew it could be any number of risky, dangerous things. Never a dull moment with his witch.

She pursed her lips and stared into his eyes for a moment before finally giving in.

"I'm using my Time-Turner to save house-elves."

"You're what?" His eyebrows inched up under his fringe.

"Saving creatures that cannot save themselves, that's what, Harry," she said pointedly, glaring at him. "It's a truly tragic tale, really. Late tonight—not here, of course, but in 1973—"

"1973?"

"—a wealthy family stands by and lets their entire staff of house-elves burn in a horrible house fire because they refuse to let them out!"

He opened his mouth to speak, but all that left his throat was a choked sputter.

"Harry," she continued, "this family is responsible for the deaths and horrific mistreatment of innumerable house-elves because they are too arrogant to care about anyone other than themselves."

"Hermione," he croaked, "time is fragile. Is it worth risking the proper order of things just to save a few house-elves?"

"I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that to me, Harry Potter. All lives are precious—being or beast alike!"

"Are you sure about this?"

Clucking her tongue and waving one hand in the air as if to ward off his nonsense, she said, "It'll be fine. It's just a harmless fix. It won't change anything vital and no one will even notice." Striding over to the table, she grabbed the overstuffed bag. "Are you coming with me or not?"

Realizing she was going to go anyway and figuring it would be best if he were there just in case something went wrong, he sighed and ducked under the golden chain she lifted. With more turns than Harry ever dreamed the old thing capable of, they were off, the world around them melting into muddled shapes and colours.

When things stopped spinning, Harry pushed his glasses up his nose with one finger and looked around.

It was green everywhere. Greener than he had ever seen. Massive, ancient trees lined the road and sprawling vines covered nearly every available inch of the iron gate guarding the private road. Wild berry bushes sat on either side, the grass beneath them lush and full. In scrolling script, the sign above the gate read, "Pittock Manor."

Hermione whipped out her wand, dismantling the wards on the gate with disturbing efficiency. "Do I need to worry about you leading a life of crime?"

Scoffing out a laugh, she said, "Please. My prowess is turning you on where you stand."

She wasn't wrong. Watching her perform magic so effortlessly was unreasonably hot, and he had to shift his stance when his body began to forget they were here for a purpose.

"Where are we?" he asked.

"Portland. On the west coast of America."

"America?! Not only have we fucked around with time, but you've also somehow managed to jump continents."

Starting up the hill, she waved her hand at him. "Yes. I told you. Theo modified it. Now, come on."

They trooped up the steep pathway, the scenery only getting prettier the closer they got to the mansion sitting on the hill.

He was distracted from his increasing concern by the mesmerising vision before him: Hermione trudging in front of him, the muscles in her calves and bum flexing with each step she took. He started to weigh whether he could get away with pushing her up against a tree for a heated snog and maybe more in the thick woods around them when she raised her hand and brought them to a halt at the top of the hill.

Turning towards Harry, she leaned in and whispered, "This is where we have to be careful. I'm going to sneak inside through the servant's quarters." She pointed to a rundown door on one side of the massive house.

She's bloody barmy.

But there was no talking her out of it now. Fortifying himself for possible confrontation, he pushed his shoulders back and nodded. "Right then. Let's go."

"No, no. Just me. I need you to stay here as a lookout in case anyone comes around this side. Send me a warning if you see anyone."

"Absolutely fucking not. Are you insane? I'm not letting you go in there by yourself."

"Harry." With a tinge of desperation in her eyes, she set her hands on his shoulders. "We can't both go. That will just increase the chance of being caught. You're an Auror; you really ought to know that."

He couldn't help the wry grin that quirked up the corner of his mouth at her cheek. "If you're not out in ten minutes, I'm coming in." Nodding briskly, she hefted the sack of rags higher on her shoulder and slunk off.

Merlin, it was hot, the air downright sticky. He had to rub the lenses of his glasses with the hem of his shirt to wipe away the fog that gathered on them every couple minutes.

Birds chirped and distantly, Harry could hear the sound of automobiles on the highway.

Casting a tempus, he checked the time. She had precisely one minute and thirty seconds before he was storming in there.

A squirrel dashed out of the undergrowth and scurried up a tree, catching his attention for just a moment. As the little guy disappeared into the foliage, the servant entrance opened and out walked Hermione, holding the door open for a group of elves to spill from in a line. When the last one crossed the threshold, she let the door slam and shouted for Harry.

"They've seen us! Can you hold them off?" Off she went down the hill, leading her ragtag army and leaving Harry to disarm the irate wizard wearing paisley print robes that stormed from the mansion, out for Hermione's blood.

With a resigned sigh, he called out, "Expelliarmus," followed by a modified binding curse he'd learned in the field, leaving the red-faced man neatly tied up and propped against the house. "Sorry, mate."

Taking off at a jog, he flew down the winding driveway, barking out a laugh at the absurdity of the moment.

Somehow, it was 1973 and Harry watched with wide eyes as Hermione Granger led a pack of semi-terrified house-elves clad in various articles of clothing to freedom, ponytail bouncing wildly as she marched out of the gates and stopped by the side of the road, waiting for him to catch up.

"Come on, Harry. Hurry." She lifted the chain again and he slipped under it as Hermione told the elves to link hands, appointing one to hold the chain, before spinning the Time-Turner.

In a blurry reverse of their previous journey, the world spun around them and when he blinked, they were back in their kitchen.

Except now the small space was filled with anxious house-elves, his wild-eyed witch mothering them as if she were Molly bloody Weasley.

When she got them settled, she walked to him and took his hand, bringing it to her mouth and peppering kisses on his knuckles. "Thank you. For trusting me."

He grinned at her, plucking a stray leaf out of her hair. "What now?"

She glanced over at the huddling elves, a proud smile on her face. "Now we leave them here for the night and go celebrate your birthday. I'll start finding them safe and suitable employment in the morning."

Chuckling, he shook his head and tugged her closer, dropping a kiss on the tip on her upturned nose.

"Happy birthday to me."