Tempus Fugit - Chapter 1

**(Just Re-Edited) **

AN: This is my first time publishing a story on this site, though I've been writing for myself for a while. In an effort to learn to write a series, I am turning to the best way possible way I can think to practice… HP fan fiction ! Tempus Fugit is the first book of my series, and the big precursor to my later stories, it lays the groundwork for my AU theme. That being said, I will be straying from the series for the sake of my story but I've tried to stay as close to possible to the books and movies as possible.

Thanks so much for reading!

Disclaimer: I own nothing. All the characters belong to J K Rowling.

December 06, 1985: Mellingham, England: Hermione Granger

The rented moving truck shuttered and clunked noisily as it pulled up the steep incline that led into the eastern border of Mellingham. As if to solidify the day in their memories forever, it had begun to snow, a rarity so close to the ocean. The cab windows, long past steamed over, had made driving a nightmare for her father (Dr. Richard Hugo Granger), whom hadn't driven in over a decade thanks to the close proximity of work and school to their previous home in Downtown London.

Mindful of his daughters comfort, Rich had worked out a system during the lengthy commute, which consisted of cracking the windows at intervals, and wiping the moisture from the interior surface of the glass with a hand towel at stop signs and red lights in order to keep them clear. Hermione wiped a circle clean, on her own window with her sleeve, than stuck her nose up to the glass. "Wow, it's really dumping!" She said in joyful wonder, for the snow was now nearly a foot deep, and was still coming down in buckets.

Rich smiled indulgently at his daughter then loosened up his grasp on the steering wheel, the color returned to his knuckles as he did so. He'd been gripping the wheel too tightly and sitting forward off the seat. Hermione gave him an encouraging smile and he sat back as though he was acting completely normal. Even at the young age of six Hermione could sympathize that it was probably more then a little stressful for him to be driving in inclement weather, let alone with his only child in the truck beside him.

Hermione left him to driving. Her mother (Dr. Jean Rose Granger) had been very clear with her before they'd left. She was not to distract him. With her mothers words in mind she turned back to her window and reaffixed her nose to the glass, taking in the town that would be her new home. She distracted herself from speaking by watching the massive flakes fall and thinking about what the people would be like at her new school.

The small town of Mellingham had at one point been bustling and thriving community, but the closure of the steel mill at the start of the 1970's had put the city at a stopper. With the drastic drop in employment, the population had dwindled rapidly leaving the city with a rather barren look to it. Now a mix of new and old buildings, (some falling down and some half way built), Mellingham had become more or less a junction between the larger cities to the South and East, and the small Villages to the North. Further, it had more highway connections then landmarks, and her new home was located on a road under one.

"Well, here we are." Rich announced at long last as they pulled up to the curb outside a sorry looking building. Both of them leaned forward and peered out the windows aghast before moving. "Not exactly rustically vintage…" Rich muttered more to himself then his daughter, he was quoting the brokers remarks of course, Hermione had heard nothing but broker remarks for weeks!

Looking up at the hard reality, she couldn't trust herself to speak. The two-story brick building was in obvious need of repairs, and looked to have been abandoned a number of years ago. All of the windows on the first floor had been completely boarded up and were furthermore covered heavily in Graffiti.Having lived in a cramped one room flat in the college district of London all her life her standards weren't high, but this place…

Another of her mother's phrases came to mind, "if haven't got anything nice to say, say nothing at all!" Hermione chewed on her tongue and mentally zipped her lips.

The father daughter pair climbed out of the truck and out onto the weather. The cold now seemed entirely suitable for this situation, and they moved in an unspoken synchrony up onto the sidewalk to stand before their new home thoroughly stunned. As if to drive in the direness of their situation just a little harder a loud honk followed by the sound of swerving tires echoed down the alley from the overpass above. In the snow the sounds magnified and Hermione half expected a car to come flying through the barrier and fall to the street before them. As it were, no such accident occurred, but she wondered if her parents would change their minds if it had.

Rich wrapped an arm about Hermione and pulled her into his side, than he let out a long measured breath. Usually an exhale like that was followed up by a countdown from ten to one, but Hermione assumed he did it mentally because it was about ten seconds later when he spoke. "It's not paradise, but once we've got the place restored it will be sharp enough." Rich rubbed her arms in an effort to stop her shivering.

"C'est la vie," Hermione said to him, squeezing his hand. Her mother said it a lot. "It's life", in other words. It was something her father had picked up quickly despite his difficulties in learning his wives native tongue. Hermione on the other hand was already fluent, having grown up in a bilingual household. "Say las vey," he returned causing them both to laugh from his botched attempt at French.

Warmed by the silly exchange, the pair turned in a circle to give the other buildings on the road deeper consideration. With the exception of a homely looking deli across the street, the other homes and buildings looked to be in a similar state of disrepair. More then a handful had broken windows, and had been boarded from the inside or else covered with old trash bags to keep in the heat. The deli, (the towns saving grace), must have just baked bread though because the air was perfumed with a sweet delectable smell that, coupled with the sight of the pristine white blanket now settled upon them in excess, softened the blow of the new digs just enough to calm them. It was crazy, how snow could make beaten down Mellingham look all right!

"Hard to think this was all forest land about 80 years ago." Her father informed her a moment later, his ability to look on the bright side always impressed her. He crossed back to the truck and wrenched the cabbie door open, then climbed in briefly to retrieve the keys for the back. Hermione wrapped her arms about herself tightly as she watched him.

"Mom's here." She called to him as she spotted her mothers car rounding the corner at the end of the road. Her father turned and nodded, before rolling up the back. Hermione wondered if he was attempting to unload before her mom saw the place so she couldn't run in the other direction screaming. Her mother pulled in right behind them, the old sedan (their first car since high school) whining loudly until the engine was shut off. Jean gave her daughter the same placating smile her father had as she waved from the front window of the car.

Hermione bit her cheek and smiled back. It wasn't easy for her parents. As she understood it, she had been an utter surprise to them and they'd put themselves through dental school on their own while raising her. Owning their own practice was a dream they'd built their lives around so no matter how much of a dump this place seemed to be, Hermione reminded herself to keep her judgments to herself. This seemingly simple task became even more difficult as they entered the dusty old dental office.

Normally, painfully conservative, her parents had taken their first real risk as adults and had bought this place sight unseen for a steal of a deal owing to the fact there had once been a murder on the premises. Once Hermione had gotten wind of that gem of a detail her father had assured her no hauntings had ever been reported, and it would be a perfect place for a pair of recent graduates to start up their practice. "Get in while the rent is low and rebuild it in time for the next boom," her father had said. Her mom had backed him up by adding that the office and apartment combo had been a godsend to find and, "when things line up, the time is right."

Resigned to her new home she followed her parents up the front steps to the door. The Broker had nailed the sold sign right to it, bridging the gap between the two heavy doors. It took a fair amount of effort to pry the board free without the proper tools and then to push open the front doors once they'd managed to unlock them. As though the building was trying to discourage them from entering it all together as the doors came open at last dust rained down on them in a cloud, and stuck to their faces. Hermione coughed several times, and her mother waved her arms in an attempt to clear the air, the effect of which caused all three Grangers to sneeze.

"There's another entry via the alley, but I think we'll use this for the most part… once we've fixed the door that is…" her dad the optimist excused.

Since the windows were boarded up, the main room was pitch dark save the light spilling in through the doorway. Her dad retrieved a torch from the truck and in it's light Hermione could also make out the outlines of dental stations long since abandoned. There also appeared to be a waiting area, a reception desk, an office, and several doors along the back wall which she assumed would lead to examination or file rooms, and a loo.

"Well, its got that antique appeal going for it alright." Jean said dryly. Hermione watched her mothers words leave her mouth in little steamy puffs. Inwardly she just hoped the place had a heater that still worked, it was freezing!

"Nostalgia Dentistry. That has a ring to it." Her dad. Hermione smirked and bit her tongue again. She noted that their boots had knocked snow onto the hardwoods, and made mud of the dust as they walked. She wondered if cleaning this dump would truly make it any better.

"Granger et Granger Nostalgia Dental, Ces't Bon."

"G.G.N.D." Hermione was grinning now despite herself, because no matter what happened, they were in it together, like The Three Musketeers.

"Of course we'll need to update some of it immediately, but it's better then buying some of this from scratch!" Her mom said to her taking the opportunity to rub her back affectionately.

"So how do we get up stairs?" Hermione asked, hoping the apartment would be in better shape then the office level. The stairwell, they found after a lengthy search by torch-light, hidden behind a door that made it appear to be just another closet. It was the last of a cluster of mystery doors they opened tucked into the far left corner of the first floor.

Her mother complained in her soft way that she'd have appreciated the broker meeting them there. Hermione thought that maybe the Broker had been worried they'd try to back out of the sale. She also wondered privately if the Broker, or anyone at all had actually entered the premises since it closed, because there was at least 6 inches of dust covering everything!

The apartment above the old dental office was in as rough of shape as the office. Jean let out a long exhale like her father did before plastering a fake grin on for the sake of her daughter. Hermione knew without being told her mother was already feeling like she'd bitten off more then she could chew in this investment, but true to the family strain of stubbornness Jean said nothing to indicate such feelings.

In attempt to keep her mind busy, Hermione had started a tally of her sneezes on a small notepad that she retrieved fluidly from her back pocket right then. A pen was velcroed to it' front so even if she'd set it down the two parts would remain together. Each time she sneezed she'd slowly and deliberately clicked the pen open then marked her list, then slow and deliberately she'd click it again before stowing it all back in her pocket. She'd sneezed exactly 13 times since entering their newest home. It was a good thing she wasn't superstitious, for 13 sneezes and the knowledge that two people had died someplace in the apartment she'd have been badly off.

Now, she looked around curiously, mind afloat with questions like, where did it happen? The dark stains on the wood floors answered her unspoken query. Meandering through the upstairs had left scuffs in the dust –covered floor and it became clear that 'it' had happened in the living room 'and' in the larger of the two bedrooms.

At the age of six Hermione was nothing like the typical child. She wasn't brash to making choices, and never asked questions she couldn't find the answer to her self. She spent the majority of her time with adults and in effect, had picked up quite an extensive vocabulary. She also knew how to properly manage and schedule herself. She never hankered for sugar with dentists for parents, which was good because she wasn't allowed sugars anyways!

She'd forgone the typical childhood landmarks of riding a bike or climbing trees all together and was content in following directions and in making self improvements.

Her actions and tendencies on the whole mimicked a much older person, and for that her parents had been grateful. Struggling through working and school whilst raising her the Grangers had managed to mold an extremely focused and independently minded young lady. She could read and write and debate, and she took pride in hard work, and learned to be efficient in whatever task or challenge was thrown her way.

Unless you counted her parents she had absolutely no friends, but somehow like everything else she'd come to accept the fact peacefully enough. At her primary school she had entertained herself entirely through playtime with a book and regardless of the bullying she incurred, remained intact in her personal choices.

There was also the fact that she was different, that she could do things, things that couldn't' be explained rationally. She could summon things for instance, or sometimes when she was too tired to get out of bed and knock the lights off herself, it just happened. Her parents studiously tried to un-see these things as they happened, and being exceptionally perceptive she knew better then to ask questions.

"The apartment boasts 928 sq. ft., two spacious bedrooms, and one full bath! And wait until you see the view, there's an enchanting underside of the overpass out the front windows, and a whimsical alley out the back!" Her mother sung out playfully as she showed Hermione around in the rose-colored lenses of a Relator.

Hermione played along after her own observations, "the kitchen while small, makes effective use of the space with its placement of cabinetry and counters!"

"The modest dining nook may have difficulty containing your small circular table and it's three chairs, but you'll never need to raise your voices to hear each other!" Her mom put in.

"Though the common room is darker then preferable, the wood panels coupled with the light color of the hardwoods will make it worthy of snuggling up with a book and a blanket." Hermione's mother grinned happily at her last assessment, while some families sat around watching t.v. and movies, the Grangers were a house of bookworms happily contented in reading books. They each had a favorite seat and blanket, and often they discussed their reading over meals.

"Well, not so bad, eh pumpkin?" Her dad came to join them.

"It's going to need a lot of work." Hermione leveled with him.

"Luckily we know someone who is always very particular and thorough." Her mom winked at her.

"Oh come on then, we'll have this place cleaned up in no time!" Hermione.

" C'est l'idée ! " ("That's the spirit!") Jean exclaimed before trudged into the smaller of the two bedrooms, "Lets focus on cleaning up the bedrooms first, so we don't feel like a bunch of squatters come morning!"

Hermione understood the scope of her task and cleaning her bedroom came without complaint. She'd always taken a lot of pride in the spaces she inhabited. Having learned by example from parents who had to work so hard for every dime they earned had instilled her with a great amount of grit.

Working systematically from top to bottom, she progressed through the tasks with the patience and due diligence of a child well beyond her years. First, she cleared the cobwebs from the corners and the ceiling on a ladder. Next, she cleaned then the walls with a rag dipped in vinegar and baking soda. She rinsed the rag and cleaned out the windowsills before doing the glass. Finally, she scrubbed the floors. She'd even polished the door knob before she felt fully satisfied.

Thoroughly sore and exhausted, she accepted a deli sandwich gratefully as her mother joined her to admire her work later that evening. She'd have never asked her out loud, but she wondered while scrubbing her floors if her mother would cover up the stains in her room with a carpet, or if they smelled like blood still.

The heater by then had begun to heat the place about a hour earlier, and her dad had also gotten the electricity and plumbing up and running while he'd been unloading. Much like the windows in the truck the single pane glass had gone foggy with moisture from the difference in temperature between the outside and in.

"How'd we get so lucky to have a daughter like you? It's night and day in here." Jean said proudly, unwrapping her own sandwich. Hermione beamed at the praise then unwrapped her own dinner, it smelt heavenly! Though… she could have eaten the tail end of a Rhino she was so hungry!

"What's next?" She asked after a ravenous bite.

"Oy! Girl after my own heart!" Her dad showed up, hefting a twin mattress set into her room. He was covered in grim and his brow sweating from unloading the moving van all day. There was fresh snow in his dark hair.

"Over here," Hermione jumped up to point to the corner by the window. It looked out into the alley but there was a sliver of sky there too, and she planned on watching the snowfall as she went to sleep.

"Have it planned out already?" Her dad laughed. "I'm not surprised. Where would you like your dresser pumpkin?"

"By the door, and the bookshelves right here beside the nightstand thanks." By habit she gestured as she spoke, and her parents shared and entertained smile. Back at their old place she'd used the fold out sofa for a bed, so having her own bed, and bedroom was a huge deal!

"Aren't you ambitious!" Her mom complimented her father, than put her sandwich down in a hurry. "Oh Rich honey, let me help you with that dresser!" Her mom followed her dad out of the room. In their absence Hermione took the opportunity to scarf down the sandwich like a heathen.

Their hard work paid off. By midnight, they had both of the bedrooms assembled, and the beds made up with all the fixings. All of the furniture and boxes had been emptied out of the truck and routed to their appropriate positions, and her dad had at some point procured a crowbar, and pulled the front boards loose from the windows of the shop below. Already, after just one long day, it was beginning to resemble a home.

Hermione didn't need anyone to tell her to go to bed, yawning she shuffled over to each of her parents and gave them a kiss and hug goodnight.

"Night sweetheart." Her mom said through a yawn of her own.

"Night pumpkin." Her dad echoed, unable to move now that he'd finally sat down. He had his legs hoisted up on a stool and was looking more disheveled then she had ever seen him. With one last look at the place she left them to it.

Never having a room of her own Hermione felt strange shutting the door, awkwardly she looked around feeling a little lonely. So this was it… a new room, a new life, and an adventure in a town where they knew no one… except each other. As she spun in a circle her eyes snagged once more on the closet. It had happened so fast but she swore she'd seen something glimmering there just then! Fast as she'd done a double take, it had gone. Hermione shook her head assuming it was a trick of the eyes, a very tired set of eyes. Yes, that was it, she was so tired that she was imagining mysterious lights! She snorted to herself, if this was what exhaustion did to you, it was no wonder she had no interest in playing sports!

Hermione hefted her travel bag onto her bed and rooted through it, in search of something to sleep in. "Ah-ha!" She exclaimed happily at sight of the PJ's she pulled out first, her red flannel nightgown, covered with silly little penguins. They were all wearing woolen scarves and hats, and most were depicted in building snowmen or else throwing snowballs. She'd packed it on a whim because it was usually too warm to sleep in. With the sudden snow, and the half heated home, it seemed like a dream come true at present.

Quickly she slipped it on and she fell into her bed heavily. A bed of her own! She laughed out loud. It was far less squeaky then the couch had been! Waving a hand in the direction of the light switch the lights went out with an audible click. She didn't care how odd she was- nor did she question something that had worked so perfectly in her favor at that moment. Snuggling into the blankets she relaxed into her new luxury, contented by chunky flakes falling in a hurry. Her lids grew heavy and her eyes closed with the excitement of tomorrow fresh in her mind.

July 13th : 1899 : 12:01 p.m. : Department of Mysteries: Saul Croaker

It began as a low whine, a sound that seemingly started from nothing, but a sound that in the end magnified to a high-pitched scream that was reminiscent of a train whistle. With the end of the whistle came a tremendous boom and an explosion that knocked Saul Croaker clear off his feet.

Saul had been working on a time experiment when it had happened. He'd been carefully measuring exact amounts, and at first he'd assumed he must have mixed his ratios wrong, but when he righted himself he noted the explosion had happened much deeper into their convoluted department for his experiment was unaffected if not spilled cross his lab station.

All around him he heard the groans of his co-workers recovering in their own spaces, and the strange sounds that accompanied their unspeakable work. He wondered briefly what Huber was dealing with in the Hall of Prophecies, or Gibbons in the brain lab. Saul pulled himself to his feet and smoothed his hair back into place. A blast like that, he imagined the whole of the Ministry of Magic would have felt it!

It wasn't long before the second wave followed the first. Great billowing clouds of golden smoke filled the rooms like a debilitating mustard gas and he immediately felt woozy. His skin started to crawl and his stomach flipped uncomfortably like a man in love. It was at that moment he understood what must have happened.

Without extra thoughts Saul fumbled for the exit, but he couldn't run fast enough. It was like one of those dreams where you need to move but your legs are stuck. Now, his legs felt leaden and his body argued with his mind.

Eloise Mintumble (his department partner) scrambled around the corner and into view. Normal perfectly poised, she was floundering and sloppy on her feet, her cheeks pink from exertion. Determined to match his pace she clumsily slipped at a run at his side. In their race to escape the Department of Mysteries she shouted at him, "It's Room 9…Hershel is totally knocked out!"

"Where is he? Did you try to help him?" Croaker incredulous.

"He's back in the junction…I didn't think it was safe to linger!" She defended.

Croaker doubled back at once and made for Hershel. Eloise stopped reluctantly then on second thought continued her own path for the exit alone. Truly, he had no desire to be bowled over by magic but it hardly seemed fair to leave a man behind, a man who also happened to be their boss! Furthermore, too much time spent exposed to what lay behind door number 9 couldn't be good- even if door number 9 lead to the room of love.

When he arrived, the door to room 9 was completely gone, obliterate. It's wood was splintered across the floor like confetti, and in the air, tendrils of wispy golden smoke snaked around like vines. Croaker felt a tight pressure building in his chest, and all at once he wanted to dance joyfully, or else lay on the floor and wait for death. He wasn't sure. He was claimed by the desire to run, but also the urge to rescue Hershel.

Hershel was convulsing in the junction that serviced most of their offices. He was grey faced and his long lanky hair was splayed out around him like a greasy halo. Laid flat across the crème colored tiles, the drops of his blood, and splashes of vomit stood out.. His mouth hung open and he seemed to be chocking on air, and his eyes had rolled back into his head so that you could only see the whites.

Acting on instinct Croaker cast a spell to remove the other doors in the junction, and molded them midair to create a thick barricade, that he levitated it into place, effectively blocking off the room number 9 again. As he watched the metal fixings adhere to the wall at the hinges he also willed the locks to snap shut and added another few extra in precaution. The door shuttered several times like it was alive and then at last relented.

Saul felt as though someone suddenly and brutally had torn his heart out. He felt aimless and reaching… and then he spotted Hershel again. "Must get out." He whispered to himself encouragingly. Rather sluggishly he cast, "levicorpulus." and Hershel lifted into the air onto an invisible stretcher. Croaker took off running again. His legs, unlike his mind, needed no convincing and he raced from the area despite the fact that his limbs were feeling heavier by the minute.

As they came around the corner he took a bypass through the Hall of Prophecies to save time and stopped dead in his tracks. There, near the front, where the very oldest prophecies were stored, was a light bursting from one in particular. It was rattling around in place like a caged animal. He visually noted it for later contemplation. Aisle 1. Shelf 7. Marker 27.

Stumbling onward, his breathing became ragged. Hershel had long since gone limp, but his vitals seemed intact So by the time he made it back into the time room, he'd begun to wonder at what catastrophic event could have occurred to cause such mayhem. Surely some massive power must have been released! Piecing it together in his ever calculative mind he fell into a heap in the hallway outside the department, exhausted.

"Thank gods!" Eloise said rushing forward to give him a hand. Saul felt confused by her sudden coddling and assumed the room was to blame. Love wasn't predictable, it effected everyone in a very different way. Luckily, Medi-witches were already on site, and Hershel was in their capable hands before he could say a word. Eloise lingered beside him looking rather torn up and he caught eyes with her for a moment to reassure her he was fine.

"Is there anyone else inside?" An Auror, Melvin Moody asked urgently. He was already in the process of barricading the department off.

"No." Eloise said with certainty. "Only 6 in today, Timmons is on extended sick leave with Dragon Pox."

"Any reason we should evacuate the Ministry as a whole?" Moody asked at a precautionary measure.

"No, the problem was located and taken care of swiftly. Lingering effects should be confined to the Department of Mysteries so long as this hall is warded." Croaker answered himself.

"Good. Then all of you off to Mungo's. I expect you'll have a plan on how and when it's safe to re-enter?"

"Yes," Eloise said vaguely. Saul could see Moody was irritated. Auror's worked to prevent issues, and they had provided him with no details to satisfy his need for control. As Unspeakables there was a lot of vagueness required in interdepartmental communication, their work, while valuable was often scuffed about due to its highly secretive nature, despite the fact that they produced answers and avenues otherwise unavailable. Feared and ridiculed more often then accepted, they were commonly beguiled about meddling with things people felt shouldn't be meddled with.

"I'll expect hospital discharge notes before re-entrance." Moody said gruffily.

"Of course," Croaker and Eloise said in unison.

oOo

"What did you see when you went back?" Eloise was quick to ask once they were alone hours later. The day had been a long one, even for Unspeakable standards. Saul had been given a clean bill of health at long last, and now he waited along side Eloise for the healers to give them official discharge papers for work.

"Well?" She pressed impatiently, tapping her long crimson nails on her chair arm. While extraordinarily bright, Eloise lacked tack and above all other things patience. Her own desires always came first and it was for that reason she'd been able to run from the department without a backwards glance at their colleague, and department head Hershel. Hershel was at that very moment hovering between life and death and she didn't seem the slightest bit worried.

"You know with Timmons out with the pox… that makes me departmental head in Hershel's absence." Croaker swallowed back a biting retort. How could she be thinking about her title at a time like this? After several deep breaths he told her about what he'd experienced first hand and also what he expected to learn on re-entrance.

"You say the door was completely gone?" She marveled at him.

"Obliterated. No, trace." He confirmed in a whisper.

"Aisle 1. Shelf 7. Marker 27? That'll be 10th century or so, won't it?"

"How do you even recall things like that?" He implored. The Hall of Prophecies wasn't their given area of research, however it was the area in which Eloise had begun in two years before he'd joined the department himself.

"I've always been interested in the earlier prophecies," she shrugged without expanding, in that vague fashion they'd all mastered over the years of working as Unspeakables. Saul eyed the secretary, and then his watch. He was exhausted, though half of him wanted to investigate the root of the accident, the other half wanted to draw the curtains and sleep right there in the lobby.

"Going back?" Eloise egged him on. He could see clearly enough it was her own plan. When the papers came, she smirked at him and pulled him to his feet by the hand. She'd won, by simple request. He held her hand surprised by the warmth he found there. It was going to be a long night with Eloise leading the way, of that he was certain.

July 13th 1899: Noon: Outskirts of Godric's Hollow (What Will Become Mellingham): Hermione Granger

Hermione twisted, turned and squinted against the light. Why had she chosen to put her bed by the window? She groaned in annoyance and moved her arm up to cover her face, then shifted. She wasn't one to whine usually, but her bed felt as hard as stone and her body ached from the strains of cleaning and unpacking the previous day. Knowing she had another day of similar strains, she was in absolutely no rush to wake up.

Really! What ever had possessed her to place her bed by the window? To be fair she'd have never expected and alley side room to get so much light by day...especially in the shadow of the overpass! She'd be moving it first thing, that was for sure!

Stubborn as ever, she kept her eyes closed tight and tried turning again in an attempt to get comfortable. Absently, she swatted at what felt like a blade of grass tickling her ear, than sat bolt upright like she'd been electrocuted. She felt her jaw drop open in shock as she took in her unexpected surroundings. Surely she was dreaming!

Gone was her bed and the small apartment, gone was the overpass and the clustered buildings lined up in either direction. Now, she found herself mysteriously seated in a small meadow, overgrown with grass and wild flowers, honey bee's and dragon flies darted past her in abandon, encircled by towering trees and forest for as far as her eyes could see.

Hermione pulled at the collar of her flannel nightgown and the felt sweat drip down her spine. Much too hot for December, she thought and yet there she was in the grass, in a field. The perfumed air filling her lungs with the smell of wildflowers, and the sky was blue and bright as a robins egg. Very deliberately she pinched herself. "That hurt," she whispered despite the fact that there was no one to hear her anyways. In fact, there were no signs of people in any direction!

Standing up, her bare feet sunk into the dirt and the overgrown grass tickled her legs. "Mom," she shouted, though she didn't expect for them to answer. "Dad!" She tried again in vain. Nothing, her heartbeat picked up a notch, and she felt panic rush over her. Where on earth was she? How had she gotten here? Where were her parents? She craned around for minutes trying to comprehend it all.

Her dads words from the day before came back to haunt her then, "Crazy to think this used to all be a forest huh?" No, the thought was Ludacris, it was impossible to travel in time! She was dreaming… that explained it, she was just trapped in a horrible dream!

Always a person of action she took off walking, after all she wasn't going to figure out anything standing alone in a field, even if she was dreaming! Careful of what lay underfoot she tried to walk in a straight line while she internally reflected on the madness of her situation. Nothing like this had ever happened to her!

She wasn't sure how long it took, but clinging desperately to the hope that she was in fact dreaming and unable to wake up, she reached a rather beaten looking cobblestone road. Hot and bothered, she wiped the sweat from her brow and looked down both directions. Off to the right, far off in the distance she could make out structures and houses. Seeing nothing in the opposite direction she resigned herself to walking the distance to the right.

The stones were far too hot to walk on, once she left the tree cover so she ended up in the dirt beside it. And as she moved along she debated her next issue. They'd only just moved into their new home in Mellingham, so there wasn't even a phone hooked up yet! In the very least she could tell the police where she needed to go to reach her family, she assumed their couldn't be too many dental offices near town.

Her hopes of using a phone, or of finding the police fled her mind however as things became more bizarre. Why was it suddenly so hot? Hadn't it had been snowing buckets the day before? Why did the roads look so dated? Where were all the cars and buses? Why wasn't there a single the lamp post or the telephone pole? Why was there not one airplane flying overhead? Curiously, it was notably and startlingly quiet. Even libraries held more noise then this place!

It felt like hours by the time Hermione reached the outskirts of a small village. There were sheep dotting the tall grasses by what appeared to be a farm. Her feet were blistered and bleeding by then, and her nightgown clung to her like a wet napkin. When she reached the first house, a woman came out the front door and examined her in what could only be described as shock. She walked right out to her as if her vision was betraying her, and poked her with a finger tentatively as if seeing a ghost.

The woman was just as much of a shock to Hermione. Dressed in what she assumed must be costume, the woman was wearing a very out dated, floor length, pale pink linen dress. It had a fitted bodice, and she'd tied on an apron, and was even wearing a bonnet! It all looked to be in immaculate condition however, and it was so strange a contrast to normal attire! Fairly, Hermione thought, her stage costume seemed more adequate for the environment then her penguin night-gown, because she wasn't sweating or limping about.

"Hello," Hermione began in her typical formal, yet frank fashion. "I'm Hermione Granger, and I'm lost, and I hoped I could use your telephone to help me find my parents."

The woman's head shrunk back into her neck like a turtle, and she continued to look at her as though she was a figment of her imagination. Methodically Hermione switched to French and repeated her request.

"English." The woman didn't immediately answer. "And… I heard you fine, I'm just still trying to make sense of you is all." She said stiffly. Ignoring her questions she crossed her arms over her chest and looked down the road for others. Fixing Hermione with another suspicious glance she began with her own questions.

"Where is it you come from exactly? Did your carriage break down on the road? There isn't anything back that way for a good distance, and you haven't even got any shoes on." It was true. Hermione had no shoes on, nor socks, and her feet were covered in dirt and cut in several places at this point.

"Might I have some water while you make sense of me?" She asked.

The women regarded her another moment before nodding, than she collected herself and gestured for Hermione to follow. Having never been on a farm before she couldn't help gaping around at everything as she went. It wasn't just the novelty of the farm, it was as though she'd woken up hundreds of years earlier! Everything from the construction of the fences, to the horse and buggy geared up out front were definitely not used in London at present. Perhaps this was just country living? She eyeballed the watering trough curiously, and also the oil lamps set along the front porch.

"I'm Millicent, Millie for short," the woman interrupted her thoughts as they reached the front porch. "Sit right there if you like," She instructed her all the while pointing at a wooden rocker. "Marty, you'd better come out here and see this!" She shouted for him from the front door.

"See her," Hermione corrected quietly, annoyed at being made a spectacle, though trying not to be rude.

"See her," the women said turning to eye her speculatively again. Marty (her husband) was dressed in the same dated fashion, and had a mustache that curled up on the ends. His hair was neat and trimmed and parted down the center. His thin brows rose to his hairline as he took her in.

"Gracious child what are you wearing? And, where are your shoes?

"I'm not sure where my shoes have gotten off too, and I'm not sure where I am either… I woke up in a field back along that road, and I'm just trying to get home."

"Is that right?" He set his hand to his chin as he regarded her. There was skepticism in his eyes she didn't miss, but she didn't comment on either. "Maybe I should pay a visit to city hall and see if we can't get the Constable out here to assist you. Obviously you aren't where you need to be."

"Thank you sir," Hermione offered him a grateful smile. She stood as he passed her, to show her respect, and as she did her stomach made it's presence known by growling loudly.

"Heavens Millie, get this girl some water and a bite of something to eat." Then he was gone.

AN: Thanks for reading! Please review if you've got a second!