AN: So I decided to start this story on a whim seeing as the last time I wrote fanfiction was probably like sixth grade, but I have been thinking about this story non-stop and am a total sucker for Sirimione. This is going to be a heck of a slow-burn my friends. And it's going to be pretty dark. This chapter is pretty short and I guaranty quick updates. I am too excited about this story to take a long time.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

14 June 1975

When Albus Dumbledore called an emergency Order of the Phoenix meeting on that fateful day in June, Everyone in attendance knew what it meant. The rumors of the escalating war, and its consequences were flitting around the wizarding world with cut throat precision. Voldemort was rising to power. Muggles, Muggle-borns, and Blood Traitors were being tortured and murdered. It couldn't be ignored anymore.

They were meeting in a safe house, which had been acting as Order headquarters, just outside of London that evening, and there was a somber and thick tension in the air. Even the youngest members (amongst them recent Hogwarts graduates Fabian and Gideon Prewett) knew that whatever they were meeting for tonight, wasn't a joking matter.

They were gathered in an overly large rectangular dining room that was completely barren except for the oblong wooden table directly in the center that could seat twenty and a dingy, ash covered fireplace that screamed disuse. There were around forty people in the room; those who hadn't been fortunate enough to snatch a chair were standing against the wall. There was a quiet murmur amongst the occupants, but this was immediately hushed when there was a sudden crack and blaze of green flame.

Albus Dumbledore didn't waste any time in gliding to the head of the table and glancing around room at his most trusted members. The twinkle in his eye, though slightly dimmer than usual was present as he scanned the room. The expressions on everyone's faces were a mix of nervousness and blatant curiosity.

"I'm sure everyone present is wondering on why I have called such a last minute meeting on this night. I hope you are all well," he started.

Someone in the back snorted and stepped forward. Alastor Moody stepped in his usual brusqueness demanded that Dumbledore skip the pleasantries and explain himself.

"As you wish, Alastor." Dumbledore paused for a moment and seemed to consider his next words carefully. He pulled a pocket watch from a fold in his robes and checked it before returning his attention to the people before him. "In five minutes we will be receiving a missive from a trusted individual in regards to how to proceed with this war."

"Professor Dumbledore, with all due respect, I have no plans of sitting here and listening to your vague explanations. Speak bluntly, if you will," said a woman sitting poshly at the opposite end of the table. Her husband standing behind her gently placed a hand on her shoulder, but her stern expression did not waver.

"Very well, Dorea. As you all may have guessed, full-blown war is about to break out in the wizarding world. I have spent many a night pondering a way to ensure that there is a favorable outcome for us, and in conclusion I have decided to create a failsafe of sorts. The missive we will receive tonight, is that failsafe. If the war ends favorably the failsafe will be nothing of worry. If not than it may very well be reason to change the entire course of the Order. I imagine it will come in the form of a letter," he finished with a curious look in his eye.

"And where, pray tell, will this failsafe be coming from, Albus?" Minerva McGonagall's sharp eyes were examining the man with a calculating look.

"Ah… It is not a question of where, Minerva, but when." The twinkle was back in full force as Minerva's face became awash with righteous indignation.

"Please tell me you are not playing with time! This is not something to be trifled with! Bad things happen to witches and wizards who meddle!"

As gasps and shocked words washed through the group, Dumbledore calmly checked his pocket watch again before straightening and interlocking his fingers behind his back. He ignored Minerva's continued onslaught of the rules of time and stared at a blank spot in front of him on the tabletop.

"I imagine we have just a few seconds."

The Order was trying very hard to squash there shock as they all turned to stare at the very spot in front of him.

"This is preposterous, Albus!"

Just as the words left Minerva's mouth a sudden pop and flash of blue light appeared right where every member had been staring. People jumped back and blocked their vision, but when the light faded sitting in that spot wasn't a letter as Dumbledore had guessed. Silence resounded through the old room as they all looked with widened eyes at what appeared to be none other than a young, unconscious teenage girl.

"It seems I have miscalculated," he said, most serenely.

"Albus! What have you done!"

And then for the first time that night, chaos erupted.

14 June 1994

The past few weeks Severus Snape had lingered in the shadows both in the presence of the Order and Death Eater's with a gnawing sense of dread. He couldn't say he was surprised when on this night the Death Eater's had met the Order on the grounds of Hogwarts and slaughtered the entirety of the light of the Wizarding World. He watched as Order member after Order member fell to dark curses and bursting green lights and knew that tonight would be the night that Dumbledore's dying instructions would have to be enacted, but yet he still lingered at the battle.

He watched on with a very small, nearly undetectable smidgen of hope fluttering at the base of his consciousness.

That hope had been dashed as soon as he watched none other than Harry Potter, the boy who lived, fall at the end of Voldemort's wand. Within seconds he'd called the dingy little house elf and apparated directly to the cold dungeons of Malfoy Manor where he knew he'd find what he needed. He walked with more purpose than he'd had in weeks to the very end of the dark and moldy hallway where he quickly removed the wards on a thick steel door and yanked it open.

There in the corner was what looked to be no more than the corpse of a girl. A girl he'd taught for three years before she'd inevitable dropped out to traipse around the world with the Potter and Weasley boy to put an end to the never-ending war.

Hermione Granger was curled in a ball in the corner with her hands and ankles chained together. She was wearing no more than a slip of black fabric bounding her chest, and what seemed to be plain black knickers. She was unbelievable dirty and covered in bruises, cuts, and scars. She'd been captured almost eight months prior by snatchers, and had been kept in this cell ever since. Severus had watched on as they'd tortured her and done unspeakable things in order to uncover the secrets of the Order, but she had been steadfast in her silence.

That had been the deciding factor for him on how exactly, he was going to follow Dumbledore's instructions.

He pulled a device from his robes and quickly crossed the room to crouch down in front of her. He wrapped the thin chain around her neck before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a letter that he had penned a few days prior when he'd been weighed down by a sinking feeling that he'd need it. He reached forward to tuck it into her hand when she suddenly sprung up and wrapped her small fingers around his neck.

She was weak from months of sensory deprivation, mistreatment, and starvation, but her grip was iron-like.

"Don't be stupid, girl!" He hissed painfully.

She studied him with her usual sharp curiosity before easing up, so he could breathe easier. She did not release him.

"I'm here on orders from Dumbledore."

"But he's…"

"Yes I'm aware!" He cut her off. "Now release me!"

She gave him one last look before sagging back down against the wall. He gave her a scathing look before holding out the thin yellowing envelope. On the back was a simple, "Albus Dumbledore."

She snatched it and blinked a few times before reading the back and then looked up at him with an air of confusion. He knew he didn't have long before Death Eater's would start to return to the Manor, so he offered her little in explanation.

"The Order… the boy… they're all dead. You are the last hope for the Wizarding World."

Before she could say anything, he pointed his wand at her and stunned her. He quickly reached for the device and turned the dial the proper amount of times. He'd rechecked his calculations thousands of times over the last year to ensure there was no chance for error.

With one last turn he stepped back and watched as the girl disappeared with a flash of light and a quick pop.

He was finally done.

14 June 1975

Albus Dumbledore tried to school his own shock as he stared at the girl in front of him. She had to be fourteen or fifteen at most. Her hair was long and wild like it hadn't seen a brush in years, and even Dumbledore found it hard to look away from all of the deeply disturbing injuries she seemed to be sporting. It took him a couple minutes of simply observing her pale and seemingly lifeless form before he noticed the small yellow envelope clutched tightly in one of her chained hands.

As he reached for it he could hear one of the Order members retching somewhere in the room, as well as Molly Weasley's loud sobs in the corner. He understood this reaction. The girl before him looked like she might very well already be dead. Ignoring the sick feeling settling in his own stomach he finally pulled the letter gently from her grasp and saw that his own name was written on the back in a precise scrawl. He opened it and saw the date at the top.

11 June 1994

Under that in the same neat handwriting it read:

You, yourself requested I recommend reading the following letter out loud in order to settle any questions the Order may have.

Albus reread it to be sure. It did not sound like him to request such a thing, but some of the members around him were searching his face with weary eyes. He cleared his throat, and silence returned to the room with exception of Molly's somewhat quieter cries.

"It seems I have instructed myself to read this letter out to this very room."

The weary looks did not waver.

He quickly began, "The girl that no doubt sits before you is a Muggleborn by the name of Hermione Granger. I apologize for the condition she is sure to arrive in. For the past eight months she has been kept as a prisoner in Voldemort's headquarters. As you may have guessed, she has been tortured most gruesomely. Despite this fact, I can say with very little doubt in my mind that this girl is the secret to ending this despicable war."

"But she's just a little girl!" Molly Weasley yelled through her tears. Her hand placed protectively over her swelling abdomen. "How could she possibly…"

"Molly dear, let Dumbledore finish." Arthur Weasley had his hands resting carefully on the woman's shoulders, but a sick look remained on his face, "Please… continue."

"I was informed that in the time I am sending her to the war is still relatively mild, but now it has moved way beyond that. The Death Eater's mame and kill with no reservations or sense of morality. It is a dark and hopeless time. While your children may still not know the truth of war, Miss Granger has faced the worst of it ever since she received her Hogwarts Letter. She is in fact, directly at the center of it. To squash your doubts of the girl in front of you I will tell you that she is inexplicably the brightest and fiercest witch of her age. Despite the months of torture, she never once revealed any of the information on the Order that she keeps in her mind. She is one of the most skilled Occlumens I am yet to meet. In her mind is the secret to the downfall of the Dark Lord. I will close this by simply saying that if you do not heed her knowledge every single person sitting in that room will die."

Albus finished the letter which was signed, "A Trusted Ally of Albus Dumbledore," and returned his stare to the girl in front of him.

Everyone in the room seemed to be stuck in a trance that wasn't broken until Moody stepped forward with a grumble, pointed his wand at her, and before anyone could stop him, hissed out a quick, "Rennervate!"

Everyone jumped as the girl shot up and in an impressive display of wandless magic disarmed Moody and spun in quick circles to survey the room. The look in her eyes was as wild as her hair and she was sitting in a crouch on the tabletop. It wasn't until her gaze and wand landed on Dumbledore that she stopped spinning. Her breathing was ragged and Moody was yelling curses and lunging for her before a man stepped forward and pulled him back.

Her eyes were narrowed and Dumbledore marveled at the fact that she was able to hold herself up at all.

Everyone in the room seemed to be holding their breaths in preparation of whatever was to come.

"What have you done to me!"

Her voice seemed to break everyone of the spell and they all watched her with small looks of terror in their eyes. Dumbledore imagined that this Miss Granger represented to them, all of their worst nightmares in regard to the end of this war. She didn't seem to like his hesitation because she emitted a small, almost inhuman growl from the back of her throat and tried again.

"He said your orders! Yours!" Her voice was raspy with disuse. Something must have suddenly registered in her mind and one quick look down at the device resting against her sternum later, the look in her eye changed. She glanced around the room one more time.

As Hermione looked around the room at the mildly recognizable faces around her something seemed to click in her mind. Her entire body was shaking except for her wand arm. That she held unwaveringly as she turned back to the man in front of her who still seemed at a loss of words.

The chains rattled against her skin as she whipped back around.

"Send me back." She'd switched from a scratchy yell to a low and scarily calm voice.

"I'm afraid, Miss Granger, that that has been made wholly impossible."

With this calm emission from Dumbledore, Hermione finally began to register everything that had happened to her in what seemed like a small amount of time. She closed her eyes and tried to remember everything Snape had said before he'd stunned her.

The Order…

The boy…

They're all dead…

There was no question in her mind who the boy was.

Harry.

The reason for her being sent back became abundantly clear in those few seconds she had closed her eyes. The members who still surrounded her seemed to be on the edge of their seats.

You are the last hope.

When she opened her eyes she had tears in her eyes but she spoke with a quiet fierceness.

"You want me to kill him."

The room erupted for the umpteenth time that night.

"She's just a girl!"

"Kill him? Voldemort?"

"Can she do it?"

"She should be dead! Look what they've done to her! She should be dead!"

Hermione ignored all of them in favor of staring into the twinkling eyes of her once Headmaster.

She silenced them once again with a strong, "I'll do it."

And then there was yelling again.

"How can we trust her!"

"He said she's the key!"

"There's no possible way."

Her wand was still pointed at Dumbledore when she spoke again, "But I have terms." Dumbledore seemed surprised by this last admission if the small quirk of his eyebrows was anything to go by.

"And what might those be, Miss Granger?"

"Everyone, hush! Listen to the girl." It was Dorea Potter who spoke. She was studying Hermione with unbridled intrigue and an almost sad look in her eye.

"My terms…" Hermione took a moment to gather her thoughts. Now that she understood why she was there her adrenaline was starting to wear off but she continued on. "In my time we fought by your terms. I did everything you said. I trusted you explicitly. In return, I lost everything."

Dumbledore was shocked by the bitterness in her voice.

"The tables are turning now. I can kill Voldemort, but only if you do everything I say. We played by your rules once, and everyone died. So it's my turn now, and I have conditions." There were undertones of a cunning nature in the way Hermione spoke to him. Dumbledore wondered if she might have been a Slytherin in her time or if this quality was born of the war. Everyone looked on with mixtures of awe and fear. "I spent every second of my capture focusing on three things. The first was how you treated every member of the Order as a pawn in your sick game for the greater good, the second was how exactly I was going to kill Voldemort, and the third was maintaining my sanity enough to do so."

Despite her breathless and ragged voice she seemed to command the room's attention. Everyone was too enraptured to even flinch at her repeated and careless use of Voldemort's name.

"Miss Granger, I am not sure what I have done to you to earn this amount of distrust." She showed no sign of hearing him besides the slight narrowing of her eyes. Dumbledore vaguely noticed that Moody's stolen wand was still pointed at his chest.

"So with that said, Albus, my conditions are as follows." Someone in the back scoffed at the way she had addressed the headmaster. "I will not be a simple fountain of knowledge for you. I hold all the information in my mind and am very skilled in occlumency so don't bother trying to break in. You will do as a say, exactly as I say it or the consequences will be very dire. I am not responsible for giving you every reason for why I have told you to do something. As I once trusted you completely, you must trust me completely."

She paused and he realized she was waiting for his acceptance.

"As you wish," he said with mild reluctance.

"Excellent. That is really the most important condition and the rest will made known at a later time. Now, what is the date?"

"June 14, 1975." It was McGonagall who answered this time, "Miss Granger, may I ask how old you are?"

When her gaze switched to her old professor, for the first time since her surprising arrival she smiled. There was a small amount of affection in her gaze that surprised both McGonagall and all that could see her face. This fierce and demanding soldier (because it had become abundantly clear that that was exactly what she was) was suddenly the beaten and young girl again.

"I am fifteen, Professor."

The sad look in the Professor's eyes seemed to sap up the last of her adrenaline fueled strength and suddenly she was sagging and folding in on herself. Her hand that was clutching the wand moved to clutch at her ribs and the chains that had been forgotten by the all those present made themselves known again.

"Perhaps, Miss Granger, a trip to Saint Mungo's is prudent."

The fierceness returned with a quick, "No!" A second later, "Where's Pomfrey?"

"She's at Hogwarts. Couldn't make it tonight," someone she couldn't identify replied.

If anyone had any doubts about the witch's strength, they were quelled when she lifted herself to cast a hasty nonverbal and corporeal patronus.

What burst from her wand surprised Hermione herself when, instead of the otter that had been her patronus before capture, was instead a large dragon.

"Holy shit." Fabian and Gideon Prewett, who until then had remained surprisingly silent, whispered from somewhere in the background.

Hermione pushed through her own pain and shock to say quickly, "Go to Pomfrey, tell her that Dumbledore has requested her presence at the Order meeting. Come quickly and bring supplies to treat a gravely injured patient."

The dragon rubbed its scaled forehead against Hermione's before flapping its large wings and disappearing through a wall.

Before any other fuss could be made Hermione felt darkness once again closing in on her vision. She pressed her still chained hand against her forehead. Right as she lost consciousness the room once again erupted.

AN: So I know this seems like a very confusing and rocky start, but I promise it only goes up from here. PLEASE Review!