The world sped past Hermione as she fell forward in slow motion. She hit the ground abruptly, her nose and forehead cracking on the stone floor, her elbow dislocating as it caught her weight, and her chest burned where the Time-Turner dug in. Her vision blurred and she had a hard time staying awake. There was no way she could pass out now, not knowing where or when she was. She was in denims and the only school paraphernalia on her body was her Gryffindor cardigan. She'd discarded her tie when she'd changed out of her skirt before dinner, and now she could be near a group of Slytherins.

"Oh dear," she heard a startled gasp. Somewhat familiar, a woman, though not one she had frequent contact with. "How—"

"Help," Hermione managed to croak, catching sight of two robe hems before she blacked out. It was oddly comforting that one of them was such an awfully bright shade of yellow.

—————H—————

She awoke in the hospital wing, confused and far sorer than she should be considering all she was being treated for was a run-in with dementors. Then she remembered Harry playing with the Time-Turner as he sat on her bed. Mrs. Norris. Falling.

Oh.

Oh.

She tried to sit up, but found her right arm in a sling and her fingers wrapped. She turned her head to the right, noting the sunlight streaming through the windows, then turned to the left.

Her heart leapt in her throat at the sight of Professor Dumbledore smiling warmly back at her.

"Hello," he said softly. "We were beginning to wonder if you planned to wake up."

"I'm sorry, sir," she said automatically, her voice dry and cracking with disuse. "I didn't mean to worry anyone." Hermione attempted to sit up again, this time using her left arm. It was a struggle, but she managed to sit up. Now with her back against the headboard, she could see the top of the bedside table. It hadn't occurred to her that her wand could have been lost or broken, but seeing it unharmed within her reach brought a sense of relief.

"I would ask how you came upon this particular Time-Turner." Dumbledore caught her attention once more, and she turned toward him so quickly that a throb spread throughout her head. He was holding up the Time-Turner by the chain, showing the broken hourglass with no sand, a bit of red staining the jagged ends of what remained. "But I suspect I gave it to you."

She cleared her throat. "What was special about it?"

Dumbledore set the Time-Turner on the table near him and poured her a cup of water.

After she'd taken a few sips, Dumbledore took a breath. "It's special in that it is one of the few Time-Turners without limitations. It is thought to be one of the first of its kind and was used by a couple of wizards before it was deemed too dangerous. Terrible things happen to wizards who meddle with time, especially when they cannot return to where they came from." At this, Dumbledore peered at her over his glasses in a scolding manner.

She knew this. There was a reason she'd hidden from herself throughout the year, why she and Harry had waited to save Sirius. But having this affirmed to her moments after waking, speaking to a man whom she knew but who clearly did not recognize her, had tears springing to her eyes.

"There's no possible way?" she sniffed. When Dumbledore shook his head, she let out a mirthless laugh. "Then I wonder how long I need to wait before I kill Harry for playing with it."

"This was an accident?" Dumbledore asked, and she peeked to see his puzzled expression. She nodded and looked up at the ceiling. "I see," he said solemnly.

"Sir?"

He tried to muster a smile, but it didn't quite work. "You are from the future, obviously. These are dangerous times, young lady, and I had hoped ... given your house, I had hoped you were sent back to provide us with some important information to use against Tom Riddle."

"Tom—" she choked the name out in confusion before she remembered something Harry had mentioned. "You-Know-Who? "

"Lord Voldemort, yes. I see that people still fear his name. And you cannot tell me anything?"

She frowned. "Should I? Isn't it dangerous to share what I know, even with you? It's not much anyway. I imagine most of what I know has already happened."

"Why do you assume that?" Dumbledore asked.

"I ... well, er." Hermione looked around, trying to find something in the decor that would give her a clue about the time period. When nothing specific stood out, she looked at Dumbledore. "What's the date?"

"It is July third." When she continued to look at him expectantly, he added gently, "Nineteen seventy-four ."

Her breathing grew shallow and her stomach churned; she did her best to keep the tears at bay.

Twenty years. Harry bloody Potter flicked and spun the blasted Time-Turner so much she had gone back twenty years.

Twenty years. She'd know all the teachers, at least. All except ....

Professors Snape and Professor Lupin. They were only in their thirties, though precisely how old, she couldn't quite recall. But they would most likely be students. With Sirius, because they all went to school together. As did ....

Harry's parents.

At that thought, the dam broke. Not only did Hermione barely manage to turn her head to vomit on the floor instead of on her sheets, she started sobbing. She couldn't meddle, she couldn't. It was against the laws of nature. She could damage the timeline, wipe herself out, wipe Harry out. And then what would happen? Voldemort would rise to power because there would be no baby Harry for Lily Potter to protect and die for. No way for a curse to rebound if it was never cast.

"I can't," she choked out, sobbing as she leaned back against the bed. Her nose and head ached, but she couldn't stop. "I can't, I can't, I can't."

She had to get control of herself. This was not her. She was a Gryffindor. She was Hermione Granger. She was prone to bouts of panic, yes, but not like this. But so many things could go wrong now. So many things ....

"Miss ...?"

"Granger. Hermione Granger."

She turned toward him, and he held out a vial. "Calming Draught," he explained and with a nod, Hermione stopped herself from shuddering long enough to swallow it. "You're in shock, and it is quite warranted, all things considered." The scent of her sick disappeared from the air just as Hermione caught her breath. "Now, Miss Granger. How far back did you go?"

"Twenty years."

He smiled calmly. "That's quite the distance. I wish I could offer some kind words or assurances. But you know the outcome of the next twenty years and I do not. Nor, I think, do I want to. You know you cannot change what will happen, but you are a Gryffindor. We do try to fix all the wrongs we perceive."

"It won't be easy."

"No, it won't be," Dumbledore agreed. "So, in the meantime, I must ask something of you."

—————H—————

July 10, 1974

"Thank you for this, Bob," Professor McGonagall said to her brother.

She was kind, kinder than Hermione had expected, considering that Professor McGonagall had no idea who she was. But after Dumbledore's ultimatum, he had called in her Head of House and explained the situation.

Well, he'd explained after the professor had been coerced as the bonder for Hermione's Unbreakable Vow.

She wasn't sure if it was perfectly legal for her to make one underage, and McGonagall was fairly certain it wasn't, but Dumbledore had insisted.

It was that or a very strong Obliviate. Hermione had opted to keep her mind intact. After that was sorted, they'd organized a place for her to stay and falsified her records. Hermione would tell people that she had lost her parents in a magical accident but wouldn't elaborate for fear of repercussions. She would claim they had moved abroad a year or two before she was eleven and had attended Ilvermorny.

"It's no problem, Minnie," Robert McGonagall Jr. assured his older sister with a gentle smile, reaching out and giving her arm a squeeze. "You know how happy this will make Delia, and we don't need to know the details."

"Hermione?" a soft voice with a delicate brogue pulled her attention away from the siblings.

Cordelia McGonagall was a thin, dainty woman too pretty for Hermione to process. Her clear blue eyes, porcelain skin, and flawless red hair made her resemble a china doll. It was especially jarring when compared to Bob, who shared the professor's dark hair and grey eyes, his skin like tanned leather.

"I have your room ready upstairs." She gestured, Hermione nodded and followed her up. "It's a bit small, but I'm sure it'll be cozy enough for you." She opened the door, and Hermione peeked inside before entering.

There was a twin bed with a pastel-colored quilt and white sheets. There was an oak dresser and a small writing desk crammed against the far wall, the latter under the window overlooking the greenhouse and back garden. There was a small night table next to the bed.

"Minnie told us you lost everything, so I thought we could go to Hogsmeade tomorrow to get you a few things."

"Oh, you really don't have to," Hermione protested, only to be waved off by Cordelia.

"We have a couple of nieces a bit older than you, who have some clothes they can give you, as well as some of their old schoolbooks. But there are some things a girl needs all her own."

Hermione smiled, but her heart ached at the same time. Tears sprung to her eyes against her will as she recalled her mother taking her bra shopping just last summer. Despite being a dentist and an intellectual, Helen Granger still managed to blush and sputter when discussing undergarments with her daughter. Knickers had Dr. Granger claiming hot flashes instead of discomfort.

"Did I ...?" Cordelia sobered, worry replacing embarrassment.

"No," Hermione reassured. "You didn't upset me, really, Mrs. McGonagall."

Cordelia nodded and bowed her head, then they both heard the others coming up the stairs.

"Well, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said, "if you're settled, I'll take my leave."

"Thank you again, Professor."

"It's no trouble. And I'll see you Sunday for dinner?" she asked, glancing at her brother. They agreed, and the adults left Hermione in her room.

Hermione moved to the window, taking in the back garden. It was so different from the one she'd looked at all her life. But then, it wasn't as though she would ever go back to that life. She'd spent her days in the hospital wing crying for her losses: being separated from her parents and her friends, knowing it would be twenty years before she would see any of them again. She had to start anew. She'd nearly told Dumbledore to Obliviate her initial opinions of people but had thought better of it.

With a sigh and a heavy heart, Hermione opened the window and let in the fresh summer air of the Scottish countryside and allowed a few stray tears to escape before stepping away and heading downstairs.

—————A—————

November 2, 1992

Aurora did not like Hogwarts much. First, aside from her mother, Ginny Weasley, the Weasley twins, and Neville Longbottom, most Gryffindors avoided her. She heard whispers that everyone feared she'd rat them out to her father. Many hissed and wondered why she wasn't in Slytherin where she "belonged." And Draco....

When he shouted, "You'll be next, Mudbloods!" after Mrs. Norris' was found Petrified , she wanted to smack him. How stupid could he be? Couldn't he see that his Aunt H. was the same person he so willingly threw the derogatory name at? They hadn't really been avoiding each other, but now she was purposely distancing herself from one of her oldest friends.

Well, one of her oldest friends aside from Harry Potter.

She'd grown up in the wizarding world, but her mother had sent her to primary school in Surrey. She'd been considered a little strange and knowing that none of the kids were magical made her feel like an outsider. She had a few girls her own age that thought her weirdness was cool, but she felt more like an accessory to them than a friend. In truth, sometimes she liked hanging around with the lonely boy. The boy who wore oversized clothes and no one approached because his cousin was an obnoxious and grotesque bully. She liked him, and they had a sort of friendship.

At least, they had until she came to Hogwarts and he learned who her father was. He wasn't mean to her, but he kept his distance. And after Halloween....

"Miss Snape," she heard her father's voice behind her as she walked briskly to lunch. She paused and turned, and despite the sneer he constantly wore these days, there was a glint of worry in his eyes. "A word."

She nodded once and followed him down to his office. Once inside, he moved to the Floo , called for lunch, and then headed for his desk. He turned one of the wooden chairs into a plush armchair similar to the ones they had at home.

"How are things, Rory? Better?"

Aurora shook her head.

"I thought not," he sighed. "How many...?"

"Too many," she mumbled. "Since Saturday, I've been accused of being the Heir of Slytherin too many times to count. Harry, well, he's tried to reason it's Draco, and Mu—Hermione says it's not either of us. But..."

"You're my daughter and therefore the 'logical' heir. Their stunted little brains can't think past that."

"Are you always this mean?" she grumbled as she shifted.

"Here? Yes. You know why that is. Things might change year after next, when your ... when Miss Granger is gone, though I make no guarantees. Merlin knows the magical florists will be sad to see my business go when I no longer feel the need to send your mother an apology for every degrading comment or insult I throw at her younger self."

Aurora giggled as their lunch popped up on his desk between them.

A smile flickered across his face as he took a cloth napkin and flicked it open, setting it on his lap. As her giggles subsided, he sobered and cleared his throat. "I want you to go to Aunt Minnie if anyone threatens you. Be extra cautious and try not to travel alone. I mean it, Rory."

"Yes, Dad."

"Good. Now, it's not much of a birthday meal, but this is the only time I had. So, tell me about your classes, and then we'll have cake."

—————H—————

August 9, 1974

"I'm sorry, you took how many courses last term?" Minerva demanded incredulously, setting her teacup and saucer down at Hermione's declaration. Cordelia, or Delia as she insisted Hermione call her, giggled at her sister-in-law's wide-eyed expression before trying to hide her amusement behind her teacup.

Hermione blushed.

"All of them," she repeated. "Though I dropped Divination, it was a load of codswallop. And while I'm sure there are witches and wizards capable of making accurate predictions, I'm certain the woman was a fraud."

"Well," Minerva sputtered, patting the bun at the nape of her neck. "You won't be taking them all this year, I assure you."

"Believe me, Professor . I have no desire to repeat the circumstances which allowed me to do so," Hermione replied, watching Delia drop her gaze to her cup as she lowered it to her lap.

Over the time Hermione had spent with the McGonagalls, her Muggle heritage had become quite evident to them all. The McGonagall siblings were half-bloods as it were, and Delia was a Muggle-born from another village. She'd met Bob in school and when the time came to settle, the youngest McGonagall decided to settle in the very village where his parents had raised them. In a Muggle village Hermione had had no problem navigating or blending into.

She also had no problem blending in with the clan. While their father had passed, Mrs. McGonagall was still close by and frequently visited her youngest child and his wife for tea. She took a liking to Hermione and shared tales of her children and the ways their accidental magic caused humorous problems. Malcolm McGonagall's children and wife were no less kind, though the youngest was older than Hermione and already out of school. The girls were thrilled to find a good home for their school uniforms and old clothes, their mother never allowing them to part with them for whatever reason. Hermione imagined it was in the hopes of a miracle for Delia and Bob.

"Good. Now, Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Astronomy, Herbology, and History of Magic are core courses, but you should take another two. And only two," Minerva emphasized sternly. "What should I put you down for?"

"Ancient Runes and Arithmancy."

"Good. Delia said that you've been helping Bob in the gardens?"

Hermione nodded. "It started as something to pass time, but he insisted he pay me a small wage since I'm technically harvesting for apothecaries."

"She'll have top marks in Herbology, and the best quality potions kit in all of Hogwarts," Delia mused. "Bob's been setting some ingredients aside for her, so she has less to buy in Diagon Alley at the end of the month."

"Keira still had all her texts, I trust?" Minerva asked.

"And what she didn't have, Malcolm Jr. did. Though you can tell he took far less care of them," Hermione replied.

"He was very Quidditch-driven," Minerva said just as the clock chimed three o'clock. She sighed heavily, setting her cup down. "I have to get back to the castle. Much needs to be done in preparation for the school year, and I'm afraid Albus will start to wonder where I've been going so frequently."

"If you must, Minnie," Delia said as she and Hermione set aside their tea and stood. The redhead embraced her sister-in-law. "We'll see you Sunday."

"Certainly," Minerva assured, stepping back before embracing Hermione. "Let me know if there is anything else you need for the school year, and I'll make sure the shopkeeps in Diagon Alley have them ready for you to pick up."

"Oh, you don't have—" Hermione began to protest as Minerva placed a finger on her lips to silence her.

"Family look out for one another," she scolded with a smile. "And if there is one thing you have become over this month, it's family. I will see you at dinner." And with a wink, Minerva left.

"You should probably know she appears quite stern at school," Delia commented after Minerva departed. "All our nephews and nieces have said so. They thought, especially if they ended up in Gryffindor, that she would favor them over others. She was stricter with them than anyone else."

Hermione's lips quirked as she remembered the Professor McGonagall of her time. Strict indeed, but she would never forget the tight embrace the older witch had given her when she was cured from her Petrified state.

"I imagine so."

"Well, enough of all this school talk." Delia waved her hand as if she could clear the conversation with the gesture. "Why don't you help me with the washing up while we talk about Jane Eyre ? I finished the book last night, just couldn't put it down!"

It wasn't home, but with the McGonagalls, she was beginning to think it was the closest she would ever get to the feeling again.

September 1, 1974

"And you're sure you have everything?" Delia asked Hermione for the half-dozenth time since Flooing into the Leaky Cauldron.

Bob sighed and made a show of rolling his eyes. "Delia, I'm sure that even if she didn't, we'd be able to get it to her."