A/N: Welcome readers both new and old to A Darkly Slanted Mirror! Before we begin, I wanted to share a little of the story behind the story. Although I technically began reposting in '12, I started this fic before Rowling revealed James Potter's parent's names and before the literal series was finished. Some of ADSM "facts" don't line up with canon, but you aren't here for canon, are you? You're here because you, too, have wondered "what if?" What if Hermione fell back through time, but lost her memories of the future in the process? How would her arrival in the late 70's impact the Marauders and what's more, how would she face the consequences should her memories resurface?

I didn't set out to write an epic, but through the years the scope of this story grew. I grew up with it, and that is reflected through our favorite character's story arcs as they're challenged in new, sometimes painful ways. All this to say, if you are a sensitive reader, you may not want to begin this journey. While I promise plenty of lighthearted Marauder fun, there are equal amounts of darkness with light. For those of you who have been with me over time, I wanted to thank you for all your love and endless encouragement! You guys are the reason I didn't give up and am working to revise while finishing ADSM. This story is for you.

Disclaimer: I only like posting these once, at the beginning. I didn't invent the world of Harry Potter (that was J.K. Rowling). While my alternate universe may echo certain events, I am merely playing around with my favorite characters. Thus, I reserve the right to shamelessly play about with canon.

PRELUDE:

Chapter 1

The Second War

All was silent save the pounding thud of her heartbeat pushing the blood rushing through her head. Her magic flowed in time with her pulse, now struggling to pull the two wizards to safety with each crackling POP.

No matter how quickly they Apparated, the Death Eater followed.

And Hermione was grasping to hold onto the magic draining from her like a bad leak.

They had the locket. They had the Horcrux and the Death Eater knew it.

To give up now would be to give up the months they'd already sacrificed to find it.

To give up would mean to give up their lives.

Hermione Granger was not the most powerful witch of her time. She wasn't naturally talented like the infamous wizard clinging to her hand now.

Harry Potter's magical store was largely untapped, something Hermione had always secretly envied. Because no amount of knowledge and brains could save them from the fix they found themselves in now.

She was fading. Fast.

A scream escaped her as she suddenly lost control, unaware of her best friends' struggle to keep up.

They fell to the grassy earth in a tangled heap, so hard the breath was stolen from her lungs.

Once Hermione managed to take several lungfuls of cold air, she lifted her head and braced against the pain clenching her chest.

Only after the dull ringing in her ears began to fade, did Hermione realized someone was screaming in agony.

Pushing her curls back from her face, she caught Harry's gaze… and then noticed Ron's bleeding body in his arms.

Splinched.

"Ron," she sobbed as she crawled on hands and knees. Her limbs trembled.

So weak.

She wouldn't be able to hold out much longer. But the sight of Ron bleeding out beneath Harry's hands ripped something inside of her so violently, Hermione found she was screaming too.

Upon flinging herself to his side, Hermione pointed her want to him and whispered the spell she'd rehearsed so many times before their quest began. She had memorized so many words, so many books, to make certain they would be prepared. She'd thought of every eventuality, every logical turn of events, every scenario.

Not this.

Her own voice taunted her in her head.

Distantly she registered Harry's voice shouting overhead. She couldn't focus on his words. It was too much, too fast. Her other hand grasped for the metal object beneath her shirt, unable to wrench it free with her weak hand.

No time.

POP

The Death Eater had followed them.

Harry had left Ron on the ground and was now attempting to save their lives against the influx of hexes being sent their way.

Hermione struggled to maintain the spell, ignoring her already depleted magical core. Why wouldn't Ron's wounds heal? Why was he still screaming?

Flashes of light illuminated the night and a brushing crackle of magical energy snapping angrily around them cued Hermione to the truth she wasn't willing to acknowledge.

The Death Eater who'd caught up with them was wounded but still older and stronger than any of them except for Harry.

"Hermione, get up! We need to go!"

She ignored Harry's plea as he lashed spell after spell.

POP

POP

Two more black-robed figures had followed.

Blood began to gush from Ron's mouth and Hermione coud hardly see through her tears. Her spell—her magic—was failing.

One of the Death Eater's fell to Harry's wand, but the others rallied.

Ron's screams faded. His skin had grown cold. His beautiful blue eyes locked with hers and the silent message within them was unmistakable.

Hermione choked, "No! I won't leave you!"

Harry's hand wrapped around her wrist and Hermione was too weak to fight as he pulled her up and away. His last spell caused the world to explode in silvery blue light.

A Patronus charm.

Hermione caught one final glimpse of Ron's vacant stare and then—POP. Faster than Hermione had managed, Harry Apparated them through an endless stream of locations, a magical trail that only someone as powerful as he could manage.

She was too numb to the world to wonder how exactly Harry managed to lose the Death Eaters. All she knew was they had to stop and so they did, eventually. In what felt a moment and a lifetime, Harry brought them deep into the forest. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Hermione recognized this to be the wilds she'd pointed out on their map only the night before.

It would be a good place to lie low after they found and took the locket.

It was a good hiding place regardless.

The trees shadowed the earth. The forest was peaceful.

Their legs buckled and Harry barely caught her as their knees sank into the muddy earth. Rain fell in frigid drifts overhead, quickly soaking them. Hermione muffled her sobs in Harry's chest. His hands, still covered in Ron's blood, caressed her back as Harry whispered nonsensical things to her ear. He stumbled over promises of safety and love, his voice hitching with unshed tears.

No where is safe.

"He's dead, Hermione," was the first thing she truly heard. "There wasn't anything we could have done."

His voice was too calm. How could he be calm? How could he say these things! Her sobs may have faded but Hermione couldn't listen to this. She pushed away from his warm chest and met Harry's emerald eyes.

Rain streaked their faces, matting Harry's unruly black hair over his forehead. Fresh cuts and bruises marked his face and his spectacles had cracked but Hermione couldn't stand the pity or sorrow in his gaze. "Hermione..." he began.

"No!" Thunder cracked the sky as Hermione somehow managed to stand on unsteady legs. Her hand trembled as she pointed her wand at Harry's chest. "How could you leave him?"

Harry flinched at her words, but it was too late. She couldn't stop the bitterness, the heartache from overflowing.

"Why didn't you take him with us? Ron was Splinched! He's not d—he's not." Choking on her words, Hermione stumbled and caught her fall on a nearby tree.

Harry said nothing in his defense. She wished she didn't hate him for it. She needed him to fight back right now, she needed him to tell her they could go back and get Ron and... Hermione logically knew Harry had if anything just saved their lives and the entire Wizarding world as a result. But she couldn't acknowledge that. Because in that same instant Hermione knew what had happened to Ron was her fault.

"Hermione, what are you doing?" Harry took slow cautious steps as he approached, his green eyes pleading with her, the same way Ron's had pleaded for her to take Harry and go.

"I—" her voice broke and thunder crackled overhead again. Hermione lowered her wand. The world began to shift in and out of focus as she struggled to blink past the fog rolling over her mind.

So damn weak.

The rain beat roughly against her skin, the only thing keeping her awake enough to say, "Going back. I can't leave him, Harry. My fault…" Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she tried to Apparate.

She heard the unmistakable, Stupefy! from Harry's lips.

His arms caught her centimeters from the ground.

Her limbs felt like lead when she woke to the crackling sound of the radio. Blinking past what felt like the worst mental hangover she had ever experienced, Hermione focused on the familiar peak of the tent she'd bought three months ago. They had been so confident of success then, though uncertain of what awaited them. Still, they had believed, no matter what happened, they would conquer anything because they were together.

Tears filled her eyes the moment the memory of yesterday crashed into her mind.

Ron, I'm so sorry.

Something fell to the floor near her cot and drew her attention. It was the radio, she realized, now zipping in and out of frequency before settling on soft white noise.

"Hermione?" Harry entered the tend and rushed to her side, his lanky frame crashing on the edge of the cot as he wrapped her hand tightly in his own. His emerald eyes were swollen and red and she knew he had been crying.

"Harry…" Tears spilled down her cheeks. She couldn't erase the image of blood gushing from Ron's lips... lips she hadn't had the chance to kiss.

Too late.

"Harry?" she attempted again. She needed to know for certain. "Is he…is Ron dead?"

Harry's jaw clenched and his grip on her hand tightened as he nodded. "We couldn't have done anything."

Her eyes widened and her lips parted as something between a moan and a sob passed her throat unbidden.

If I hadn't lost control…

"Hermione?" Harry leaned in, his lips pressed into a thin line before his expression hardened and he said, "Hermione, listen to me. I know how you feel right now, believe me. Ron was my brother. But he would have wanted us to keep going. Remember the promise we all made before this started? There are too many people out there who will suffer if we don't get finish this, and I can't do it without you."

Too many people…

How many lives had been lost to this war? How many others would die before the end? The list of those she had known was maddening enough, but there had been so many others. So many who had lost their lives and their absence still affected the people she loved.

Like Sirius.

Like Harry's mum and dad…

The thought was enough to clear Hermione's mind past her shock. A familiar, logical and infuriatingly calm Hermione was taking control once again.

Harry was right. They couldn't lie in their grief or they'd fall right into the trap Voldemort had waiting for them.

Without Hermione, Harry would be alone, just like he'd intended before she and Ron pushed themselves into his plans. The Golden Trio had faced Death together, she had reminded Harry. That was how they survived. Now they were just Harry and Hermione and she needed him far more than he did her.

Blinking past fresh tears Hermione gripped Harry's hand tightly back, as she met his gaze with fresh determination. Harry smiled and Hermione understood the pleading in Ron's eyes now. He'd been asking her to fill in the gaps. She had to be strong.

"We'll mourn Ron later," she began. "But first, we're going to take from You-Know-Who, everything he took from us. We won't let any of them all die in vain." Her voice softened towards the end, yet Harry seemed to hang onto her words.

She turned to take in their surroundings. The tent was the same as they had last left it, as if nothing was amiss, save the darkness radiating from the locket innocently sitting on the bedside table.

We'll destroy the locket first.

Harry's eyes were far away when she turned back to face him. It was a look Hermione was very familiar with. She hadn't understood that look before, but she did now. Harry was thinking about everyone that had been taken from him, from his parents to Sirius. And her heart cracked to pieces knowing this was a part of Harry's past he'd never be able to escape.

The Savior of the Wizarding World looked less like a hero and more like a grieving boy right now.

Yet Hermione believed in him.

Especially now.

All the knowledge and wisdom and logic she had hoarded were pointless in a war like this. No, she didn't have the power to fight like Harry. She'd never been much of a dueler, and she wasn't marked by anything other than the fact Harry Potter was her best friend. She was seventeen-year-old Hermione Jean Granger, and she would be their strength, even if she had to pretend.

"Harry?" she softly inquired.

A slow smile ghosted his features as he spoke his thoughts aloud. "I was thinking about that Christmas we spent at Grimmauld Place. Pulling pranks with Sirius against the twins. I don't think I've ever laughed so much as I did that Christmas." His eyes met hers as his smile faded. "It's not fair, Hermione...how many have been taken. Not just from me, either. We've all lost someone. It's not going to stop until he's dead, is it?"

White noise from the wireless crackled against the rumble of thunder outside their tent. Hermione chewed on her lower lip, as Harry bowed his head and adjusted his spectacles. She needed to say something and she didn't want to talk about what they were about to face any longer.

"Do you ever still wonder what things would have been like?"

Harry's head perked up as though startled, then paused before replying, "You mean if he'd never…"

"Murdered your parents," Hermione finished.

A slow transformation took over Harry's face. She watched in wonder as premature lines faded and his green eyes shone the more brightly as he answered, "I've wondered about that every day since I was old enough to understand what their deaths meant. Even before I knew they'd died sacrificing their lives for mine... Sometimes I hate how I've had to rely on what other people tell me about them. The memories I have are so few. But I always used to daydream about them and what it would have been like..."

"You could have grown up with Ron and the Weasley's long before Hogwarts," Hermione offered with a forced grin.

"Yeah…" Harry's mouth quirked up to the side and a spark of mischief flashed through his gaze. "I could have shown Malfoy a thing or two about flying our first year."

"We'd have spent holidays at your parent's home, taking turns whenever we didn't want to deal with noise at the Weasley's."

Harry's smile turned genuine as he added, "Sirius would have tried teaching me all his tricks for baiting birds."

Hermione shook her head at the thought of Harry's godfather. The man had been infuriating and endearing. They had butted heads more than not, usually when he attempted to corrupt Harry's humility. Looking back, Hermione regretted every harsh word she'd ever said to him.

Harry's face grew pensive, wistful then. "I know one thing, none of them would have let me face Voldemort like this. Dad was an Auror. I bet he and mum would have hunted us down the moment they found out what we were trying to do. Then they would have gone after Voldemort's head."

Hermione hesitated. "Harry, I don't think they would have let Voldemort live long enough to challenge you in the first place."

Harry nodded and their gazes locked. "They would have loved you," he said with a smile.

Hermione squeezed his hand and returned his smile as best she could.

Harry glanced back at the wireless and, giving her hand a final squeeze, moved to switch off the device. Setting it back on the table next to the locket, his fingers briefly grazed the Horcrux before meeting Hermione's gaze. Offering a look he had only ever given her, his best friend, Harry said, "I'd better get back out there. I've been too worried about you to watch for Death Eaters. And I know my protection charms are a patched up mess compared to yours, Hermione."

She smiled past the pain and the lingering need to cry, pushing the confidence he needed into her reply. "Undoubtedly."

Harry beamed at her before walking to the tent opening and lifting the flap.

"Harry?"

He turned back expectantly, eyebrows raised and hidden by his messy black hair.

"Constant vigilance."

Review: If you fancy :)