A/N: Hello all! I am back with another Theomione because I just can't help myself! I am really excited about this story, though. It's kind of an alternative take on my story Sleeper, only this time Hermione's got Theo's help from the beginning. I really hope that you will enjoy what I've got in store for you...expect about 35 chapters, updates 1-2x a week. You can follow me on tumblr (nauticalparamour) where I post sneak peeks, story updates and answer questions! Huge thanks to accio-echo for beta reading this chapter!

Please let me know what you thought of chapter one and be on the lookout for chapter two soon!

Hermione looked around the shell of the Room of Requirement, sighing heavily while she did the quick maths in her head. It was something that she'd known for a while now, but was only just being forced to face the reality of. And worse - knowing that she would now have to share that fate with her cohabitants.

She had been so hopeful that the Battle of Hogwarts was going to mean the end of the war, the end of the fighting. She, Harry and Ron had gotten out of nearly every scrape they'd ever encountered. She'd been so positive that they were going to prevail. They had to prevail...after all, they were the good guys.

But they hadn't prevailed. Harry had gone running off to the Forbidden Forest to face Voldemort himself, slightly manically pushing her and Ron away, explaining that this was something he had to do. That he was a horcrux himself. But then Voldemort had shown back up with Harry's body in tow and...he didn't get up. With the news that Harry Potter was dead, the resistance seemed to crumble.

Neville Longbottom had been killed in front of everyone. Ginny Weasley had been killed in front of everyone. And then everything was thrown into shambles. Ron was grabbing her hand then, leading her up up up the stairs until they were at the charred remains of the Room of Requirement. While it could no longer differentiate itself into a fantastic array of forms based on what the entrant wanted most, at its most basic purpose the Room still did it's best to keep students safe.

They hadn't been alone in their idea long, though. The room already had occupants - a rag tag group of three Slytherins, the Headmistress, Professor Sprout and four young Ravenclaws. Hermione had raged at Ron, wanting to leave the room and go back out to the fight. They hadn't even managed to kill Nagini, Voldemort's massive snake, and it felt too much like failure, too cowardly, to sit back and hide while the fighting raged on.

It was Draco Malfoy's annoyed drawl that snapped her out of it. "Salazar's staff, Granger, do you have a death wish?" he snarled. "We don't exactly fancy alerting anyone to our location, so kindly get out or shut up."

Hermione had shut up then, finding her own little corner of the vast room to retreat to, shoving off even Ron's kind words. She'd taken the time to herself to muffle bitter sobs, tears wetting her cheeks until she couldn't cry any longer. Then, she'd just stared at the wall and waited for sleep that just never came.

By the time that the rest of the Room's occupants woke up the next day, Hermione could sit still no longer. She knew that she was going to act.. Walking around the room, she gathered all scraps of food that they had managed to bring with them. The Ravenclaws had the most - a house elf had found them jerky when they had been told to wait in their common room. Malfoy had a crushed pumpkin pasty. Hermione had a few tins of sardines that they hadn't eaten on their time on the run, but the severity of the situation they found themselves in hit her full force.

Crouching down next to Headmistress McGonagall, she was unused to seeing the woman look so disheveled and hopeless. "Professor, we need to talk," she said, biting her lower lip, wondering how best to broach the this particular subject.

"Please, I think you can call me Minerva now that we find ourselves in this situation," she said, patting Hermione kindly on the hand. "And I hope you don't mind if I call you Hermione."

"Of course not," Hermione said, shaking off the gesture, knowing that this little moment was one of banality. While a part of her would have loved to be on a first name basis with the witch that she'd looked up to for so long, Hermione knew that she had more important things to deal with in that moment. "I've done an inventory of the food that we have here. Even if we give ourselves starving rations, we won't have enough food for two days. Aguamenti will help with the thirst, but we are sure to starve to death if we stay here."

Merlin, saying those words out loud made everything seem so much bleaker. Hermione felt her stomach tighten in a knot, knowing that she had already been running on too little food all those months on the run with Harry and Ron. She honestly wasn't sure how much longer her body could hold out.

"That's if they don't manage to break in here before then," Malfoy said with a sneer, having overheard her hushed tones with the older woman. "The Room isn't indestructible, as Umbridge proved in fifth year. They are going to find us. We are as good as dead if we stay here."

Hermione stood up, spinning on her heel, feeling tears welling up in her eyes. "Well, if I'm doomed to death, thank Godric it will be with your pessimistic company, Malfoy," she countered, hating the wavering quality of her voice.

"What the hell are you three doing here anyway?" Ron asked, eyeing the three Slytherins suspiciously. "Just waiting to let your daddies in here?"

Theo Nott and Blaise Zabini sat side by side, looking utterly opposite. Zabini was eternally cool with his legs stretched out in front of him, leaning back on his elbows surveying the room with disinterest. "Don't be silly Weasley," he drawled. "My daddy is dead."

Theo Nott couldn't suppress a snort of amusement from where he was sitting, with his arms wrapped around his legs tightly, looking as though he were trying to make himself into the smallest ball possible. That was how Hermione had always known the lanky Slytherin, perfectly content to sit on the edges, unnoticed, but always watching. "I'll just be happy if I never see my father again," he said quietly, before resting his chin on his knees, looking sad.

Malfoy crossed his arms over his chest. "Don't know if you've realized it, Weasley, but we don't want Him to win, either," he said. "Otherwise we wouldn't have fought against him. Should have realized that Saint Potter would go and lose though," he added bitterly.

Someone disparaging their recently killed friend got under Ron's skin, and before anyone could stop him, he was launching himself at Malfoy. He knocked the Slytherin down to the ground and in an instant they were tussling about in a tangle of limbs, each trying to land a punch on the other. Hermione couldn't even find it in herself to try to separate them, privately thinking that it was time that Malfoy got his comeuppance.

Minerva, though, had no such tolerance and waved her wand at the boys, separating them magically. Ron had the beginnings of a black eye blooming above his cheek bone, but Malfoy's nose was bleeding profusely. "Even though things are bleak, I will not have you two behaving like buffoons," she said sternly, her brogue thicker than ever. "I need to think and I won't be able to do that with all your racket."

Hermione was glad that someone else was going to do the thinking, because she felt like her head was full of sand. Having always been counted on to think of a way out of their troubles, Hermione was simply out of ideas. Crawling over to Ron, she cradled his cheek while she looked over his bruise, babying him the way that he needed to be, the way that his mother couldn't. Her eyes traced the charred ground until she found Malfoy, his own friends trying to help him stop his nose bleed, tearing off the cuff of their school shirts to sop up the blood.

This was it, of course, unless Minerva could think of some brilliant plan to get them out of this mess. She would either be dead in a matter of days due to hunger or dead once the Death Eaters finally broke into the room, killing them in some sort of horrible way. She vaguely wondered if they would want to execute her in public to prove a point….probably.

She was surprised by how apathetic she felt about it all. Hermione wasn't upset or sad. Instead, she felt the blinding euphoria of relief, knowing that it was finally over, once and for all. Did that make her a bad person, she wondered? She had failed, they had failed, and she couldn't even find it in herself to feel bad about it. How many people had died needlessly? And soon, her and Ron's names would be added to that already lengthy list..

Laying back on the hard ground, she wrapped Ron up in her arms, letting him cry into her chest while her fingers slipped through his too long hair. "It will all be over soon," she whispered to him over and over again, until her eyes were drooping shut and she let herself sleep for the first time in days.

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When Hermione woke up, the rest of the Room's occupants had formed a wonky looking circle in the middle of the room, everyone trying to keep to their own friends, but wanting to be a part of something communal. The pile of food in the middle seemed to be keeping their attention well enough. Joining the circle, Hermione leaned her head against Ron's shoulder.

A few beats of silence passed before Minerva was clearing her throat. "I've thought of something," she said, her voice commanding the attention of the room. "It's a bit of a suicide mission, but I think that we have to do something instead of just waiting here to die."

Hermione gave out a gasp of surprise when she saw the older woman pull a small golden chain, revealing a familiar time turner. "My time turner," she said, feeling her heart flutter with hope for the first time.

Ron must have put two and two together as well. "Brilliant! We can go back to before the battle and make sure that we are better prepared," he said, eyes wide with the possibility. "We can warn Harry not to go into the forest!"

"I'm afraid I was thinking a bit grander than that, Mr. Weasley," she said, watching as the time turner swung back and forth on it's chain. "A little bit further into the past."

Hermione squeezed Ron's hand tightly in her's. "What if we could go far enough back to make sure that Harry never even was an orphan. If he's parents hadn't been killed by Vol-You-Know-Who," she said, catching herself before she could utter the taboo.

"Exactly, Hermione," Minerva said with a nod. "I was thinking that we can send two of us back to infiltrate You-Know-Who's organization when he was rising to power the first time. He could be taken down from the inside, and hopefully we would be able to save the whole wizarding world a lot of suffering."

"I'll do it," Hermione found herself volunteering before her brain had really had a chance to process it.

"You?" Ron asked, sounding aghast. "But, Hermione, you're a muggleborn."

"Of course it will be me," Hermione said waving her arm at the rest of the occupants. "Minerva and Professor Sprout can't go - they might run into themselves. I won't have been born yet, so I'll be in the clear. And the Ravenclaws are too little. Of course it has to be me. And I am pretty sure that I can trick them into thinking I'm a pureblood," she added, haughtily.

"I'll go with you," Ron said immediately, giving her hand a squeeze. "I'm a pureblood and I'm sure I can help you navigate the traditions and stuff."

Malfoy was unable to stop his laughter from drawing attention to himself. "Please, Weasley. As if you would ever be able to help her navigate the complexities of the pureblood sphere. You barely even eat with utensils."

"I don't need any help," Hermione insisted. "I'm perfectly capable on my own."

"Hermione, I think that you would be best off taking someone with you," Minerva said softly, throwing her voice into the ring. "It will be a lonely existence if you don't have someone you can lean on; someone who knows where you've come from. And I think you will find 1973 a bit tricker to navigate than you anticipate."

"I'll go with her," Malfoy said proudly. "I've got an impeccable pedigree and my mother has been coaching me on polite society since I've been able to walk. They won't think twice about me."

"Fat chance, Malfoy. You look exactly like your father. Don't you think people will have enough questions about who the fuck you are that you've just popped out of the sky. You won't be able to prove your pedigree when you haven't even been born yet. And I doubt the Malfoys are keen on acknowledging bastards," Ron argued hotly at the idea of Draco Malfoy going into the past with Hermione.

Malfoy colored when he realized that it was true. "Well, ditto for you, Weasley. It's obvious to anyone with eyes that you are a Weasley with your looks. It's too likely to cause questions if you just show up out of nowhere," Malfoy countered, relishing that Ron wouldn't be able to go back with her either. "Blaise, what about you? Your family has been in Italy."

The boy looked down in shame. "I couldn't keep up the ruse," he said with a frown. "Even though I didn't want the Dark Lord to win doesn't mean that I could tolerate having a mudblood as my only true friend for two decades."

The comment smarted, but really, Hermione didn't expect more from the Slytherin. "Thank you for your honesty, I suppose, Zabini," she said, thinking it was really better that he told her now, rather than waiting until he was safe. It must have been hard to go against his natural preservation instincts to survive by leaving the room and the future behind, to a much rosier past.

Zabini's pronouncement sent Malfoy and Ron into a tizzy, arguing over who would be better equipped to help her, while Hermione sat there feeling a bit overwhelmed, wondering if she wouldn't be better off just going on her own. Ron was...a good friend, but she just didn't know if he could handle many more years of fighting. The horcrux hunt had already destroyed him once, and she knew it was going to be much worse in the past. She wasn't entirely sure she and Malfoy would be able to survive without killing one another.

"I'll do it," a quiet voice said, confidently, breaking through the arguments of the other two boys. Nott looked up from his spot on the floor, not breaking eye contact with Hermione.

"You?" Ron asked, sounding perplexed.

"Well, yeah, it has to be me, doesn't it?" Nott asked with a snort of derision. "It's got to be one of the four of us boys, but Zabini won't go, and you and Draco are disqualified for the multitude of reasons that you've both listed," he explained, standing up and wiping the ash from his pants. "And, honestly out of the three of us Slytherins, I'm the one with the most reason to hate the Dark Lord."

That was news to Hermione, and she wondered what Nott had experienced that warranted such a statement. She realized how little she really knew about the Slytherin. He was smart - ending up in most of her advanced classes - but she never remembered him participating much in class. He had been one of the students who had been able to see the thestrals, like Harry. Maybe he'd witnessed a horrible death. "Okay," she found herself agreeing, without thinking about it any further.

"Are you out of your mind, Hermione?" Ron asked. "I can't believe you are really thinking about going with him!"

"No, Theo's right," Malfoy said with disappointment in his voice. "He's got the name and the knowledge to work effectively in that time."

"But, won't everyone recognize him same as me or you?" Ron asked, wanting nothing more than to disqualify Nott for one reason or another, unwilling to be parted from her.

"The Nott family is spread all over the continent," Draco said with a shrug of his shoulders. "And has been for a long time, too."

"My father's great nephew - who I was named for - lives in Croatia as an attache to the Ministry. I can assume his identity and he'll be too wrapped up in their battle with the vampires for...six years or so to realize that he has an imposter back in England," Nott explained, matter-of-factly. "And I don't take after my father in looks, I take after my mother. No one will put two and two together. You see….it has to be me."

"He's right," Hermione said, looking at Ron, wanting to make it clear that there would be no more arguing over it. She wasn't sure how she and Nott would fare together, but she was committed to doing whatever it would take to make the future a better place for everyone. If Nott was promising her an in to work more effectively, she was going to give him the benefit of the doubt. But, based on his insistence that he wanted to end the Dark Lord's rise to power, she hoped that she would have a deft ally in her mission as well. She wondered if Nott would ever be able to trust her enough to explain his reasoning to her. After all, they would only have each other once they went back.

"So, you've come to consensus?" Minerva asked, staring between the four boys who had been jockeying to go back in time with her. Seeing everyone - even Ron - reluctantly nod, but most importantly, Hermione's agreement, Minerva smiled with an almost cheshire cat-like grin. "Alright then. Let's talk specifics."