"Okay! Alright! So. Now. This end goes in here...like...this...and then this goes here-whoops-here, that's the right one, yes." Arthur Weasley grunted, a bit of tongue hanging out the side of his mouth, full concentration with holding two parts of a wooden crib frame together with one hand while he grasped at air for the tools he had gathered. Ronald Weasley, on his knees beside Arthur, watched and knew better than to tell his own dad that he had mixed around two parts having learned from the last correction he had offered. It had been decided that Arthur didn't need help. Of any sort. A wave of the wand would have fixed it right the first time and the past hour needn't have been wasted in building it, but Arthur insisted on building the Muggle crib in a Muggle way. He had received a shiny new tool set for Christmas, and the tools were getting used one way or another.

Hermione had stood behind them, admiring the mental effort both of them were putting into building the crib, her hands supporting her back as she arched it to counter the weight of the full belly that had long refused her to see her feet. She rocked, side to side gently, biting her lip as a very slight discomfort tingled in her mid-section. Whispers of labor had made itself known that morning, but she had kept it to herself knowing they weren't happening often enough to cause worry. She had read all about the signs, and had practiced getting the feel of how long it should be before heading to the hospital when she first learned she was pregnant.

She breathed slowly, letting her mind get lost in the mess around her feet, meditating instead on the blueprints that Arthur and Ronald had given up on following soon after starting. She had noticed the mistakes, and they cried out to her, but she had kept her mouth shut. Building the crib had kept them busy and as long as they were busy, they weren't freaking out, coddling her over her contractions. She knew Ronald would have been persistent that she'd rest, then run amok of their house during the minutes, hours or days that they were to wait. She imagined he would have taken the liberty to call upon everyone and let them know, and more than likely sit beside her and stare at her, as if she was some caged animal, watching for any sign of pain or any symbol to take action. It was something she rather wouldn't happen.

"Bloody piece of-" Arthur had realized his mistake. The tools were placed gently, a little too gently on the ground beside him, and he leaned back, his hands now pulling at his hair as he fought to gain composure. The crib had almost been halfway built, and it had taken an hour to get this far. Luckily they had a full day of time ahead of them.

"Anyone hungry?" Hermione asked if only to break the tension slowly building in the room. They didn't hear her, too busy looking over the parts and deciding what they could take apart from what they couldn't to salvage what they could.

Hermione waddled out of the room, chuckling softly, and headed for the kitchen. She may have been in the beginning stages of labor, but she was still hungry. Peanut butter, she had craved it daily for the past nine months, and even then was looking forward to sitting down at the table with a spoon and the jar. Maybe some sardines, wait, no, chips sounded better. She'd check back on the guys after she'd have her fill.

When Arthur had arrived, he had come straight from the Ministry, along with him had been brought some work that he had so carefully smuggled out with him. He had mentioned something about a defunct clock he had removed from the house of a Muggle, mumbling something along the lines of when it chimed anyone near it would quack like a duck for ten minutes. Arthur assured her he had disabled it as soon as she had begun to worry about it being in her home.

It was a beautiful clock, a mantle clock, Arthur had called it, with a rich, mahogany wood body carved intricately at the base with Celtic knots, golden colored time hands, and a mother-of-pearl face plate that was almost hypnotic the more she stared at it, hidden behind a glass door. It neither ticked not tocked and certain it was disabled as she spent five minutes staring at it without the hands moving at all, had gathered the courage to admire it closer. Taking one more spoonful of peanut butter, she shoved the spoon into her mouth and stood a breath's distance from it, tracing a gentle finger upon its curves. She regretted it immediately, noticing she had smeared a bit of peanut butter close to the face plate that must have clung to her finger with the last dip, and used a clean finger to wipe all she could off. She'd get a towel for the rest, but before she could turn to obtain said towel, she grew dizzy. The room began to spin. She closed her eyes, vertigo still threatening her senses and only grew stronger. Deep, methodical breathing had seemed to help, and she continued to do so long after the spinning world had slowed. Maybe it was time to head to the hospital?

Opening her eyes, the room around her appeared dark and hazy, she couldn't see where she was going and used her hands to feel in front of her. Within a few steps, she had bumped into something and tried searching her brain for the source. In the direction she was going, there was nothing that would have been in her way. She could see it clearly in memory, her living room, and the clear path to the hallway that would lead to the stairs, which she would call up to gain Ronald's attention. Yet, she grabbed the thing in front of her down near her knees, and couldn't place it. Her hands traced along it, recognizing a cushion of velvet as she followed it along to sturdy arms. A couch? And though it wasn't a familiar couch, sat down in it. She pulled her wand from her pocket, holding it in front of her and spoke.

"Lumos."

Light bounced off the walls, the room came into view and she gasped so hard she began to choke. She recognized the room she was in alright, though it had been a few years since she had last seen it, there was no mistaking the rich golds and reds of the Gryffindor Common Room.

"Ron!" She screamed, or tried to. It came out as a puff of air. She cleared her throat. "Ron!" She cried again. This time was louder, but she knew he wouldn't have heard her. People at the other end of the room had there been any wouldn't have heard her. She screamed again. "Ronald!" Using all the bravery and courage she could, her voice finally rang out, her throat even slightly bruised. It wasn't long before she heard feet rushing down stairs, and pattering over to her. She lifted her wand, spreading light onto the face of the person who joined her.

"Oy, you alright?" A black-haired girl with a upturned nose and high cheek bones stared at her. Hermione did not recognize her at all.

"Who-who are you?" She asked. The girl lifted her eyebrows and seemed put-off at her question.

"I should ask you the same. I'm Head Girl, Penny Westgate."

Penny Westgate? The name was not familiar, just as the common room had not looked at all as she remembered it. Though the shapes and lines were all very much the same common room she had spent seven years in, the furniture, the paintings on the walls and even the smell of the room had been different. Penny cleared her throat.

"It's customary to introduce yourself after one has given their name." Penny said. She had a very slender nose, one that gracefully pointed anywhere she looked and had been staring down it, eyebrows raised high over her wide eyes.

"Granger." Hermione said. "Hermione Granger." Raising her wand higher, the light from the tip spread out further. Though the couch she had been sitting on had been new to her, it was obviously very old and very used. The cushions were lumpy, the pillows looked dusty and judging by the lopsided feeling, had literally been on its last legs.

"Hermione Granger?" Penny asked. Her delicate nose wrinkled, creasing the skin between her eyes and she gave her head a shake. "No, I don't recognize your name. I pride myself on knowing every single Gryffindor student and I have not-"

"I graduated years ago, I'm not surprised." Hermione said softly. Penny snorted.

"Right."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. She searched as far as the light would let her see around her, and only grew more curious the further she strained to look. Standing, she had suddenly lost attention in her surroundings and found herself growing wary. Rising to her feet for the past nine months had grown increasingly difficult; the added weight of a healthy baby growing inside of her had made getting to her feet a workout in itself, but this time she had almost floated to her feet without any resistance. Her hands, as if pulled by magnets, flew to her stomach where a comforting bump should have been and instead, found it flat, just as taught as it had been before her pregnancy.

"No." She pressed against her stomach, her hands going so far as to measure the considerable size difference of her breasts before she allowed herself to begin shaking. "My baby, no...no..."

"Your baby?" Penny asked, eyebrows arching into her hairline again.

"My baby, my...I...no. No. Oh no." Hermione felt lightheaded and it was probably due to her mind reeling through every possibility that could have happened, the only thing was it was drawing a blank. There were no thoughts, any that she had knowledge of to call upon that would describe her situation. She had scoured her brain so intently, realizing she had been pulled from the common room and was now being guided through the corridors of Hogwarts had left her feeling twice as confused as she had been before. By the time Penny had guided her into the infirmary, she had noticed her throat had been raw; she had been screaming, so much so, her voice had gone straight to cracking and when it didn't make any more sound had feared she had ruined it altogether. Penny had only silenced her with a charm, as Hermione had learned when the Head Girl had begun explaining everything to the medi-witch that had exited the offices. If she didn't know any better, it sounded more like gossip than concern, and Hermione glared, crossing her arms sleepy over her chest as she watched.

The medi-witch had first looked her way, scrutinizing Hermione from a distance before rushing forward. The nurse had also not been familiar to Hermione, that is, until she grew close. Madame Pomfrey had been a kind and friendly face she grew accustomed to seeing through the years she had spent there, and the witch looking at her just then had Pomfrey's face, from her blue eyes to the style in which she pulled back her hair and tucked it neatly under her nurses cap, but there was something majorly different in it. Her skin had been younger, firmer, less wrinkled. Her hair had color, a soft brown that had only begun to develop adorning strands of grey. It was as if Pomfrey had hidden a younger sibling somewhere, maybe an unmentioned daughter? But the closer she got and the more Hermione looked, she could tell this was the same Pomfrey that had tended to her, that had tended to all of Hogwarts student body when she attended.

"Miss Granger is it?" Pomfrey asked and Hermione quickly nodded.

"Miss Westgate has informed me you are with child?"

Hermione nodded again, her eyes welling up with tears, her arms unfolding and she clasped her stomach again. Pomfrey visibly sighed, an unmistakable look of discontent growing across her face as she pushed Hermione down onto the bed. She pulled a wand and waved it over her mid-section. A soft, warm, glowing light spread out, hugging Hermione and she could feel it deep into her, gently swirling around and warming her insides. She watched carefully, not afraid as the doctors she had visited were magical and had used the charm on her many times. She found it calming, closing her eyes so she could focus on hearing Pomfrey tell her that her baby had been okay, that whatever had happened had somehow displaced the tiny human inside of her to dis-form her bump and that everything was going to be okay.

"Well, Miss Granger. I can assure you that the worst has not happened. You're perfectly healthy except for maybe some vivid dreaming. A sign of stress. Quite common for this time of year."

Hermione snapped her eyes open, the golden light had gone, Madame Pomfrey was standing beside her, hands clasped together, a hopeful smile on her face. Hermione looked down at her stomach and once more began to feel desperately at it.

"There is no sign of life inside you other than your own. Pregnant. Honestly. At your age it would be a shame-please tell me you're aware of contraceptive charms, Miss Granger? No, no, calm down, you're alright..."

Though Hermione would later think she meant well, her words held no comfort at all. Reaching out, she had grabbed Ponfrey by the collar of her dress and pulled her closely. Her voice, still charmed silent, was not working, but Hermione had been giving her a piece of her mind. Her lips had been moving, her knuckes were growing more white by the second, and Pomfrey didn't seem to panic. Instead, the witch had calmly worked Hermione's fingers free, taken Hermione's arms gently but sternly, and forced her back onto the bed.

"Like I said, Miss Granger. Stress and sleepless nights, you need you're rest. This will all make better sense after we get some relaxing potions into you."

The last thing Hermione wanted was potions. How could she possibly relax after learning she had lost her baby and appeared back at Hogwarts unexpectedly? Waiting for the release of her arms, Hermione rolled off the side of the bed, and dashed to the exit, pushing past Pomfrey and Penny.

The castle's decorations and decor may had been different, but the corridors and hallways had remained the same. Hermione had expertly navigated her way down and around, dipping into the only room she knew she'd find privacy; Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Though she wouldn't exactly be alone, company of Myrtle's ghost was far more welcome than the two witches she had just ran from, and anyone else at that moment. It was dark, being the middle of the night and with no students roaming about there were no candles to see by. Hermione drew her wand, glad that she had not left it behind. She wasn't sure where to go, if spending the night in a stall was a good idea or not, or if she'd even remain in the bathroom for long. Her breath hitched as she caught movement from in front of her.

"Myrtle? Is that you?" She wanted to whisper, but found her voice silent. Angrily she waved her wand at herself, the anger inside her able to be felt as the strength of her wordless magic felt like a hot flame in her throat, she ended up screaming the question when the silencing charm had released.

She took a small step forward. Whatever moved in front of her before moved again just as she did, and she breathed a bit easier recognizing a mirror, the same mirror she had seen for six years every time she entered the room, and felt a bit silly that she had forgotten it had been there. It had her attention though, showing her an image that she did not expect. She walked timidly up to it, watching her own reflection grow closer and noticing for the first time that she hadn't been wearing the same clothes she remembered putting on back at home. She was in robes, school robes, looking much like a student.

She hadn't seen herself age in the past years, growing into a woman had been unrecognized as she had grown used to seeing herself every day, the changes slipping by her, but the face that stared back at her had been different than what she was used to. She no longer resembled a woman who had left childhood behind her, but that of a teenager, youthfulness presented itself in smooth skin, even her hair had transformed back into a barely-managed frizz which scared her the most had she to be honest with herself. She looked sixteen again, and though she would have given anything to appear young and fresh, the circumstances which gave it to her unnerved her.

She backed away slowly, waved the light out of her wand, and exited the bathroom now feeling like she had been shown a horrible nightmare she couldn't escape. Back in the corridors, her reflection hung at the forefront of her thoughts and tried to remember what had brought her here in the first place. She remembered waking up at home, next to a snoring Ronald, had remembered getting ready for the day, greeting Arthur Weasley when he arrived bogged down with a box bought from a muggle store that contained a baby crib. Remembered Arthur snapping at her when she offered help for the first time and then reading a few chapters of a book to keep herself out of his way. She remembered the taste of peanut butter and chips, still fresh on her tongue, and looking at a clock that mesmerized her. It was a blur after that.

She heard footsteps which drew her out of her thoughts and looked around her, the corridors blackened, and hesitated on what to do. She could have easily given up and let herself be caught, or try hiding and try to keep out of reach until the school would awaken. While she hesitated, something had ran past her, she could smell the faint scent of dog and hear a soft panting before she made out something shaggy dodge past her knees. Without question, she followed it trying her best to run as silently as possible.

She followed it into the trophy room, a dim glow from the lights thrust upon the trophies allowing her to see around the room with little struggle. She edged her way in, slowly, not wanting to spook the dog she had followed and ended up spooking herself when a hand had grabbed her shoulder and tugged her back quickly. That hand was tossed over her mouth and when she turned her head, a young male with ragged hair was looking at her, pressing a finger against his lips signaling her to be quiet. His eyes flicked over to the door, then back to the cases of trophies before pulling her over to it.

They were nestled in between cases, squatting low and ducked down in time to hide themselves from a silhouette of a person whom had stuck their head in from seeing them. The figure stepped into the room, took one painfully slow look around, then left, the sounds of their footsteps hurrying off in the distance. Hermione looked to the boy next to her.

"They're searching for me." He explained. "Thanks for not giving me away."

"Searching for you?" Hermione asked. "Then they're after me, too." She hung her head slightly under his curious gaze, "I ran from the infirmary." She explained.

"Is that all? The infirmary?" He laughed. "We've got a brave one here ladies and gentlemen!"

"Brave indeed, I'm too old to be sneaking around like this, especially in my conditi-" She stopped speaking, her hand sneaking a feel at her stomach. Her condition no longer existed and she felt hollow. The boy didn't seem to catch her dissipating words, however as he had rolled his eyes at the first.

"Too old, huh?" He snickered. "I've heard a lot of first lines, but that one takes them all. Too old." He stood up, pulling Hermione up by her arm as well and scanned the room.

"I think we're safe to be on our way. I don't hear anyone else coming." He looked once more to Hermione. "Which way are you heading?"

"Me?" She asked. "I, um, I'm not sure."

"Okay, we'll make this easier...which house are you headed to?"

"Well I, um...Gryffindor, I suppose."

The boy lifted his head, one eye squinting.

"Gryffindor, eh? You sure?"

"I suppose so." She shrugged. "It's the house I was sorted into, and I don't think I'll do well hiding around the castle now that I know there are people out looking for us." She really didn't want to go back to the common room, it was too small of a place and she was sure to be found. If she could grab even an ounce of luck, maybe one of the beds in the dormitory would be available that she could climb into and pull the drapes shut. The boy was still studying her.

"Funny I've never seen you before." His fingers ran across his chin, wiping at a bloody lip Hermione just noticed. He didn't seem to realize the cut as he pulled his hand away after some consideration. "Nope. Never seen you before." He said decidedly and extended a hand.

"I'm Black. Sirius Black."

Hermione was awestruck. His name, as soon as he had said it clicked something inside of her. The archaic look of the common room, her youthful face making her look like a student again...

"You've got to be kidding me." She said, falling back into the wall and sliding down into a sitting position.

"No, not kidding." Sirius said now looking at Hermione with concern.

"This can't-How did-" She pressed her face into her hands and rubbed at her temples hard. "What year is it?" She asked, bracing for the shock of her life.

"Nineteen-Seventy-Five." Sirius answered and Hermione let out a groan. Had she not already known it was possible to travel back in time, she would have not believed it.