Falling through time was not a quick process. Despite what books and television suggested you don't just disappear from one moment in time and instantaneously reappear in another point. No, it was an exhausting feat that took what felt like years. If Hermione had to describe it, which she might as well since she had nothing better to do, it felt like a high speed drop which never seemed to end where the sounds are oddly similar to the Doctor Who theme song and all that you could see are blurs moving around you like everyone else is at high speed and you're at a standstill. It was so nauseatingly fast that she was pretty sure her stomach is still back in 1997 and will not be completing the journey to wherever, whenever, she will end up.

How she got in to this predicament was also a bit of a blur. The day started off well, it was the first day of August and It had been Bill Weasleys and Fleur Deleacour's wedding. Devon, and really the south of England as a whole, had put on beautiful day which had turned into a mild summers evening. For the first time in while, really since Dumbledores death at the hands of Snape back in June, people felt they could smile and laugh. The golden trio had temporarily suspended their horcrux hunt to watch the eldest Weasley wed. The wedding itself was beautiful, Hermione who up until that point had thought the wedding was staged due to haste realised that war or not the pair would have been ready to marry anyway. What followed the ceremony was a reception in the backyard of the burrow. Music played as guest danced and drank. There were speeches and laughter as well as a crying Molly Weasley who kept muttering about grandchildren in her drink induced haze. The night had been in full swing when Kingsley's patronus interrupted to announce The Minister of Magic Rufus Scrimgeour was dead quickly sobering the mood. As soon as it faded away the the distinct pops of apparition sounded over the afraid chatter and the distinct black robes and hoods of the Death Eaters arrived. Hermione isn't to sure exactly what happened after that. She remembered the heat of fire and the screams of the wedding guests. She saw Harry, disguised as a Weasley, mouth headquarters and then she nodded in understanding and disapparated to Grimmauld Place. Or at least she assumed she did at the time. The feeling however was not the same and instead reminded her of her trips with the time turner in third year, albeit on a much grander scale. She was nearly certain she was not changing locations but rather dates.

So here Hermione was falling, very literally, into the unknown. And of course just as her stomach seemed to adapt to the sensation the blurs slowed and she was deposited onto the ground, a thump announcing her arrival. Bruised but thankfully not broken she eased her way onto her feet to work out where WHEN the heck she was. Her first thought was that it was cold, not freezing like the chill of winter, but not the summer night she came from. The sky was still dark but thankfully the stars, bright against the blackness of the sky, indicated that the likelihood of rain was low. Turning around to see more of her surroundings she came face to face with a building. While smaller, and if she was being honest.. less of an eye sore, than it was in her time she instantaneously recognised it as the Burrow. She counted only three stories and her mind took no time realising the implications. She hadn't just traveled days or months in time but years. She estimated she was at some point in the late seventies from the house alone, as while still big and jarring it still had a few more additions to go before it resembled the structure she knew.

Hermione was brought out of her thoughts by a bang from inside the house and the scared voice of Molly Weasley "Bill, I need you to wake up Percy dear and go hide okay. Charlie grab the twins from their cot and go with him".

Shit, on my arrival I triggered the wards Hermione realised, they probably think I'm a death eater here to kill them. With that realisation she quickly apparated away to the only place she could think of wishing she could apologise for nearly scaring the Weasley family to death.

In her desperation Hermione had taken herself to the heart of Wizarding London in Diagon Alley. Being late at night, or at least she assumed it was, the street was near deserted. All the shops, some familiar like Ollivanders and the Apothecary, where closed. The only noise was coming from the Leaky Cauldron at the end of the street where a vaguely familiar Hobgoblins song was playing loudly and drunk voices sung even louder overtop. Making her way towards the pub in search of warmth and clues as to when she was Hermione caught a glimpse of herself in the Owl Emporiums window. She was still wearing her lilac dress robes which were much to short for the weather outside and had torn in several places from her abrupt landing. Her hair had fallen out from her half-updo and her bag was dirty was dirty but thankfully in one piece and still stocked from the horcrux hunt. Thinking she should grab something to cover up she went to fish in her bag for a sweater. Distracted in her search she failed to hear someone approach her until she was shoved against the side of the shop her wrists pinned above her head.

"What's a pretty young thing doing out so late all alone?" A voice slurred from above her. Hermione looked up to see a tall middle aged man with greying hair and yellow teeth smiling suggestively down at her. She could smell the fire whiskey on his breath as he leant in closer.
"Get of me!" she yelled as she tried to wriggle her right hand, which was holding her wand, free.

"Now now sweetheart, don't play games with me. You're out her wearing so little just waiting for a man like me to come along."

"Fuck you, you don't get the right to assault me and then justify it by saying I was asking for it," Hermione growled trying to use any strength she had to escape his clutches. The man was still much stronger than her and without her wand she was useless. Her fighting didn't seem to faze him as he pinned her against the wall with his own body and was moving one hand towards her crotch tracing her bodies curves on the way. Just as Hermione was resigning herself to the fact she was not only in a time without anyone she knew she was also going to be raped, her attacker was abruptly ripped away. She fell to the ground a stream of tears rushing down her face. Above her a man with his back towards her was tackling her assailant to the ground and yelling angrily at the vile man. Realising that he had the man under control she closed her eyes and tried to stop herself from hyperventilating.

Hermione was finally getting her breathing under control when a soft voice gently said "Miss, would you like me to take you to St Mungos?". She shook her head against the wall and slowly began opening her eyes. In front of her was a tall lean man with messy black hair and hazel eyes hidden slightly by thin framed glasses. Her mind first went to Harry, but looking into his eyes she realised that her saviour was not her best friend but rather his father James Potter. His very much young and alive father. And momentarily a thought passed through her mind Well fuck, this is definitely the 70s. At least I was right about something.