Harry Potter 1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing...obviously. Just borrowing JK's lovely world.

**Authors Note: **Hi everyone and welcome to my newest story, this time based in the Harry Potter realm of things. As this is a Bellamione fic and rated M you should be prepared for some sort of adult scenarios later in the story; as well as that, be aware this story will deal with slightly darker things - as one would expect with a story involving Bellatrix Lestrange. If a chapter does contain anything dark or remotely triggering it _will _be mentioned in the author's note of that chapter and you will be reminded to read at your own discretion.  
Also to my lovely "_The Normandy Academy_" readers expect an update for that _soon_, I have been bogged down with university work and then a long overdue holiday I had booked for months beforehand.  
Now on with the story~!

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**Prologue**

Nothing could have prepared her for the sounds the walls of Hogwarts carried that night, nor could have it prepared her for what came after. The spells and cries of anguish ripped her from her already uneasy sleep; and in seconds she was on her feet and out of the dormitory, taking two steps at a time before bursting into the common room. Seventh years were calming down those younger than them. They had been told to stay inside their dorms, that they were under attack.

Hermione ignored the pleas from her fellow Gryffindor's as she sprinted out of the room, her mind running a thousand paces a second. _Harry was out tonight. With Dumbledore. Where they alright? Was he alright? Who was screaming? _

She allowed her body to lead her at will, zipping down the stairs, wand at the ready. She crossed into a hallway on the first floor. _What if Harry was dead? What did that mean for her, for the Order- for the world?_

So engrossed in her own thoughts she had turned a corner too fast, narrowly dodging a spell that ricocheted toward her, throwing her off balance. And yet the fall never came. When she was able to focus her gaze again she found herself securely locked in the arms of a stranger - no, not a stranger, the enemy. Bellatrix Lestrange.

Hermione bolted up, scrambling out of Death Eater's arms, flicking her wand into a defensive position. The woman was _smiling_. Not smirking, actually smiling.

"Careful there Tripper, you're no use if you're out cold," Bellatrix spoke in a tone so unlike her usual one. This voice lacked all the evil, all the hatred it had ever carried, replaced instead with an uneasy sense of gentleness.

Of course the demeanour disappeared as quickly as it appeared. The raven witch snarled in disgust; whether it was at herself or Hermione, neither would ever know. Her own gnarly wand brought up to point at the girl. _The Mudblood._

Hermione was far out matched and she knew it. What she couldn't fathom however was why the Death Eater, famed for her ability to strike first ask questions later, had not yet cast the curse she so fondly used.

Daring herself to say something Hermione spoke, her words broken and angry, "What are you doing here Capt- Lestrange?" the nickname fell briefly before she corrected herself.

Bellatrix didn't bother calling her on it. She knew all about the nicknames. All about Captain and Tripper. And she knew that Hermione did too. However like Hermione, that knowledge of the pet names, of their changes whenever they happened to meet, cursed her and followed her wherever she went.

"Your Headmaster is dead, and your friends will be needing you, just as mine will be needing me," Bellatrix replied as curt as possible. She couldn't help but feel for the girl as she watched her face twist into a horrible look of pain. _No. These were not HER feelings. NOT HERS. Bellatrix Lestrange did not feel for a petty little Mudblood._

Hermione had felt her heart rip from her chest. Albus Dumbledore was dead. Her eyes found Bellatrix's. Surely it hadn't been her. She would never have killed the man. Bellatrix Lestrange was a torturer, sickened and twisted by a snake of a man - but she was not a person who would strike a man who had helped her the way that Dumbledore had done. _It wasn't HER he had helped. It wasn't US. IT WASN'T._

The woman had begun to walk away before Hermione had leapt forward, wrapping her hand around her wrist, "Tell me it wasn't you," she pleaded, her voice cracking with sprung tears.

Of course Bellatrix made the mistake of turning around and meeting her eyes. Somewhere inside of her she felt _something_ break. Touching a hand to the girl's she whispered, her voice still somehow sounding over the ruckus within the castle, "Stay safe Tripper, this marks the start of the war."

And she walked away, a thousand different voices screaming inside her head to return to the Gryffindor and yet a thousand more telling her to leave and never come back. She could hear the girl's sobs echo after her as she caught up with a few straggling Death Eaters, her 'game face' having been put back into place as she torched a painting. _It wasn't us. These memories aren't mine to own. These feelings are not MINE._

Hermione had made her way outside some time later, gathering herself and pretending the tears were shed for the Headmaster laying in the courtyard, never to move again. Straight away she knew it couldn't have been Bellatrix. She trusted the woman unconditionally. It was twisted and it was sick and yet she didn't mind. Somewhere deep down, past all the denial and confusion that clouded her thoughts, she knew the dreams she was sure they were _both _having were memories. Their _own _memories. Of a time and place that was not their own. And as she clutched her wand aimed at the sky in memory of a great wizard lost, she vowed to figure it all out.


	2. Chapter 1

**Authors Note: **And this my lovely readers is where I take a relatively good scene from the movies and completely muss it up to my liking.

Enjoy~

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**Chapter One**

Wedged between an overly excited Ginny Weasley and an equally excited Mrs. Weasley, sat Hermione, rigid as possible and awkward beyond comprehension. She wasn't even quite sure why she had decided to come here, or why she allowed herself to be roped into whatever this kind of talk was. She was relatively sure it was about boys, or had turned into a conversation about boys, but she had tuned out minutes ago when she found that counting the threads on a pillow was more entertaining.

It wasn't that she didn't enjoy this kind of idle chit-chat, and she definitely didn't mind the company of the Weasley women; it was that Ron had decided to sit himself on the opposing couch and talk with Harry. She seethed at even the thought of the youngest Weasley boy. His ridiculous relationship with Lavender Brown had been grating on her even since it began. And now it was Christmas. And here she was, stuck on Christmas night itself in the same house as the daft ape.

The funniest thing about the entire ordeal though was that she didn't want to visit in the first place. She had planned her holidays out to stay at home with her parents, drink tea, read, study, and sleep. But a last minute owl from Harry had a note simply _begging _her to attend the night - he was sick of the 'Lavender Talk' as he so aptly described it. And so after a discussion with her parents, she arranged with Tonks to come collect her after Christmas dinner.

Hermione flung a poisonous glare in Harry's general direction. _Invite me and then leave me to talk to him anyway you great git. There's no point in me even being here if I'm not to 'save' you from him. _

It was at that very moment that a large scarred hand fell on her shoulder, shaking her from her internal scowling with such a fright she yelped and flung herself from the couch. The discussion in the room ceased immediately, all eyes trained on her, including the amused ones of Professor Lupin, knowing all too well he had frightened her.

"To be fair Hermione I did call your name several times," he spoke with a chuckle in his voice, "We're taking our leave now and I do believe you require an apparition home?"

Hermione flushed a dark red from being scared so easily, years with Harry Potter as a best friend should have prepared her better, "Yes of course, right," she managed to stutter out past her embarrassment.

They were hugging people goodbye; well at least Andromeda, Tonks, and Lupin were. She awkwardly stood off to the side with Harry and Ginny. And even with the heat of two others beside her Hermione quickly realized how cool the night air had gotten and in an attempt to keep her shaking hands warm she cupped them over her mouth and turned around to face a small decorative fire beside the door.

Her eyes trained along past the wards set around the house, out into the dense reeds beyond. She had gotten such an awful feeling from doing so; as if the reeds were staring back at her. Which of course was an _entirely _ridiculous notion, even with magic at hand. But the more she gazed out at them the more she felt that eerie sense of being watched back.

She felt someone appear at her side, glancing up to find Remus again. His werewolf cycle was due to start soon, she knew it by the way he had been standing and acting all night. Now was no different. It was like she didn't exist for a moment, his eyes glazing over as they darted through the very same reeds she had been staring at before.

"Remus?" a voice spoke from behind them, barely shaking him from his trance. Tonks and the others had appeared behind them as well, curious to see what both he and Hermione had been staring at, "Remus come on love," Tonks spoke again, touching his arm gently.

He jumped at the contact, spinning around with an uneasy smile and continued on with thanking the Weasley's. Hermione however spared them only a glance before glancing back out at the fields. She was positive there were eyes somewhere in there, looking back at her; a breath so close she could almost feel it on her neck.

"Hey Harry, I think-" it all happened too fast. Her sentence was cut off by a loud cracking noise and an intense heat like she had never quite felt before. There was screaming and a cackling so familiar that it caused her to draw her wand without second thought.

Bellatrix Lestrange stood on the outskirts of the wards as they burned furiously behind her. The defences were down and the most famed Death Eater stood proud of her handiwork. Her cackling and taunting from her spot was deafening even over the roar of the flames.

Hermione saw him move before anyone else had. Harry leapt from his standing position, wand drawn, hunting down the woman that had murdered his last remaining family. She watched on with horror as he disappeared into the reeds, Ginny quickly following. And then, as she tried to sort things through her head, all hell broke loose.

Spells were flying every which direction, careening off shields and into the Weasley home. Her mind went into overdrive as the Death Eaters poured in, at least one for each of them, perhaps more she couldn't be sure. For the first time since the dealings at the Ministry, Hermione was made to defend herself at all costs.

Her shield was up before the ugly skinny man before her could even finish his spell, and she watched with a sense of pride as he disappeared back off into the reeds, his spell having been deflected back onto him. Hermione took off into the fray casting jinxes at all the black cloaked people she could see, taking up a side against a smiling and yet completely horrified Tonks. Remus had disappeared after Harry, that much she realized.

It was chaotic and yet she could see everything going on at once. She caught the faces of the Death Eaters that fell or retreated, caught the sight of blood dripping from Molly Weasley's face as a careening spell had clipped her temple, and then she caught the sight of Bellatrix Lestrange. The raven haired beast was advancing on her slowly. No. Not on her. On Tonks. The one thing that Bellatrix's sister adored more than anything else. And the one thing that would ruin Andromeda forever.

Hermione made the decision before she realized she even wanted to and she stepped in front of the crazed woman's path, her wand drawn with a warning glinting in her eye. She knew she stood no chance if Bellatrix were to make it serious, she'd be crushed like a bug beneath the foot of a giant, and yet she stood as brave as her Gryffindor soul allowed her to be.

"Oooh what do we have here," Lestrange said in a sing song demeaning voice, twirling her wand playfully at the sight before her, "Itty bitty muddykins is being a lion?"

Intelligent enough to keep her mouth closed, Hermione stayed quiet, her breathing all that was left to be heard by the raven; and even then she hoped she couldn't hear its fearful rattling. Bellatrix cackled at the lack of reply, "What do ya say muddy, shall we have a little fun hmm?"

Hermione's shield rose the same time as the curse was cast, and not for the first time she was glad that it had held, even if it had drained her and left her breathing heavy. Of course the exhaustion only served to cause Bellatrix to laugh louder and close in on her prey. She flashed her rotting teeth as a sign of aggressiveness and Hermione realized, in that tiny moment of beast-like fierceness, that she had made a grave mistake facing the dark witch tonight.

As quick as her mind allowed Hermione searched her repertoire of spells, choosing the only one she knew she could cast in such a dire situation and as Bellatrix rose her wand, she raised her own. All around her for the second time that night things had almost slowed down, and she could once again see everything with such clarity that it pained her to look.

As her arm swung back to cast she saw Harry sprinting out of the reeds toward her and then Mrs. Weasley running to her from the opposite side. She watched as Bellatrix brought her wand back down and the sparkling red that appeared at its tip, the same time as she saw the spark of flame erupt from her own.

"Crucio!"  
"Confringo!"

They had called their spells at the same time and with such a degree of passion that their incantations mixed into a garble of sounds. And in the second it took for the spells to leave their respective wands Hermione had noticed something horrible. The wands had been pointed at each other directly rather than their owners.

She had tried to duck, tried to move and yet nothing stopped what was inevitable. The spells had crashed into one another and in that single moment before the pushback came, Hermione saw the terrified look on the faces of those around her. A bang resonated and then a force beyond any other carried the casters away from one another.

Sounds were muffled, her vision distorted. She could have sworn if even for a second she saw daylight on the horizon. The thumping in her head lasted only moments longer before Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her age, fell into the darkness eating at the edges of her vision.

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**Authors Note 2: **If you understand the time jump backwards from the Prologue then gold star for you. If not you'll have to wait and see.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

There were a number of things Hermione became painfully aware of as she roused from an uneasy sleep. Firstly, it was bright, too bright for someone who was trying to rest, and whatever was bright was also uncomfortably hot. Secondly, _something_ was digging into her back and causing just the amount of discomfort to annoy her but not enough that she deemed it worthy to open her eyes. And then her senses caught something, a distinct touch and smell that she knew far too well for her own liking.

Despite her throbbing head and its protests to keep still, she cracked an eye open, groaning as the light invaded her blurred vision. She knew where she was before her eyes were even able to adjust; the smell had given it away even in her hazy state. Reeds. Lots of them. Most of them admittedly squashed from where she had taken up a sleeping position. And beyond them she could see the eccentric structure better known as the Weasley house.

Her first thought as she moved into a sitting position, cradling her head in her hands, was that it was all a giant practical joke, more than likely designed by the twins. How they had managed to get her past Mrs. Weasley however boggled her; surely the woman wouldn't have allowed them to set her outside during the winter, it was a wonder she hadn't frozen to death.

And then of course, as she rose on shaky feet and made her way back through the grass she realized something, several things in all actuality. The house was quiet. The door was open. And it was far too hot to be a winters day. Her feet stopped working the same time her brain went into overload. _The Weasley home is never quiet, ever. I'm dead. I've got to be dead. I haven't even finished school yet. No wait. Was that a cricket? Not dead. Hermione Granger's heaven would NOT include obnoxious crickets. Still too quiet. Are they dead?-_

She moved closer to the house, peering through the windows as she went. The steaming food from the previous night was still out on the table, kept warm by magic, and the cookies Ginny had made for Harry were left untouched on the counter she had placed them on. When she reached the open door she hesitated, her wand subconsciously drawn from her pocket and tightly gripped in her hand.

"Mrs. Weasley?" she called cautiously from the entrance.

Her voice cracked in a fear she didn't even realize she was feeling. And when no reply came after several minutes, not even a footstep to signify someone had heard her, she ventured in. _What if this is some kind of Muggle apocalypse? What if the books were right? Don't be silly, that's something Ron would think._

The house was deserted, so was the outside; she checked both areas twice. There wasn't even a clue to lead her in the right direction. And the worst part was her fear had died down and turned into just plain confusion. She had gone over the possibilities countless times in her head and none of them made even the slightest bit of sense. One thing was for sure though; she was alone in a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere with no idea what to do next or why any of it was happening.

Taking a seat on the bottom of the stairwell she remembered what had happened the night before. She remembered the feeling of being watched. And then foolishly going up against Bellatrix Lestrange. And then nothing. She felt nor saw nor remembered nothing. For a moment she went back to the idea that she was dead and that the loud marshland crickets were some omnipotent beings way of saying "this is for being foolish and getting yourself killed". That was until she realized everything hurt far too much and there is _no way_ she would end up at Ronald Weasley's house upon arriving to heaven.

Instead of flooding her head with anymore ridiculous theories, and to stop her body from protesting against her walking around, she moved to the lounge room and laid down on the largest sofa, taking a pillow up for comfort. She closed her eyes. More rest would do her well, she could feel it calling to her, well not so much calling as demanding.

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Three hours later she awoke to the feeling of _something_ watching her, and not just watching her but doing so incredibly closely, close enough to feel a warmth touch her cheek every few seconds. For a few moments she just lay there, eyes closed, trying to figure out who or what it was. And then it came, the single sharpest pain she'd felt since Crookshanks had bitten her finger. She shot awake and startled the creature into a mass of white feathers and sound; her hands clutched tightly over her nose.

Hedwig took her perch back on the windowsill, her head tilting back in an offended manner; as if _Hermione_ were the rude one for startling her. The girl just glared right on back. The owl had gone from being a ten to a minus one in a matter of seconds.

Rubbing at her bitten nose, Hermione sat up and did a quick swiveling check around the room before settling back into a more comfortable position, "Oh don't give me that look, you're the one who bit my nose. And no I have no idea where Harry is before you ask." The bird just tilted its head in confusion.

_Talking to an owl now are we? _Hermione groaned at herself, standing up to go eat the leftovers and to give herself some thinking space. _Being alone for such a short amount of time and you're already going crazy. You know what you need? A Butterbeer. A big tall fresh glass of Butterbeer._

Midway through a bite of a potato she dropped her fork. That was it. She had her plan. The Floo Network linked all registered fireplaces together and she knew for a fact one existed in the Three Boomsticks, she'd overheard a group talking about it on a visit before. Her smile and mood grew tenfold after _that_ little train of thought.

Within twenty minutes she was ready to go, having packed some extra Floo Powder and a few needed essentials into a bag she had previously charmed for Harry at school; and she was standing at the fireplace, dust in hand. For seconds she just stood there, staring back out at the eerily quiet house. Her worst fear at this point in time was getting there and finding not a single soul in Hogsmeade either; if she was alone here in this big world she didn't know what she'd do.

Taking a deep breath she bought her hand down, releasing the dust at the same time calling the one place she trusted herself going to. And with a tug she was being pulled through space. Halfway between the Weasley home and Hogsmeade, even in the brief moments it was, she remembered how much she hated Floo travel. It sickened her.

However when she arrived at the other side, streaked in a light layer of soot, her sickness immediately disappeared, replaced with a happiness that made her jaws ache from smiling. The pub was crowded with patrons and Hogwarts students alike. The sound of people made her head spin and soon she found it too much effort to stand and instead took a seat at the bar. Madam Rosmerta appeared like a lightning bolt.

"Hey there darlin' what can I get you?" she said, her curious gaze flickering over the girl before settling back to the cleaning the mug in her hand.

"A Butterbeer please," Hermione replied, offering her a smile before turning back to the students to momentarily survey them. Something seemed off. She just couldn't put her finger on _what_.

Rosmerta busied herself with making the drink, her eyes all the while trained on the girl, she smiled before handing the frothy mug to her, "Hogwarts is a fantastic school, surprised I ain't ever seen you attend it. You look the type."

Hermione nearly dropped her glass. Her face gave away her shock though, she could tell it had already gone pale. _What does she mean she's never seen me attended it? She knows me. Everyone knows me. Correction everyone knows Harry Potter - you're just along for the ride. _"Excuse me?" she eventually managed to splutter out.

"Sorry darlin' didn't realize you'd be so offended over it," Rosmerta was halfway between a laugh and feeling sorry for the kid, "Just thought you looked the studyin' type is all."

"D-do you know who I am?" she could feel the onset of fear rising back up again, suddenly she no longer felt like drinking anything.

There was a tense few moments, the older woman chose to ignore the other customers for a moment to stare at the girl before her. Madam Rosmerta prided herself on being able to remember every single face that passed through and promised a return to her pub. But now, faced with a girl who looked close to tears or losing the contents of her stomach, or both, Rosmerta realized she had no idea what to do.

"Now listen here," she started, holding a finger up to Hermione to snap her back into focus, "You just waltzed in here and looked like the happiest person I seen all day. Now look at you. Look like you seen a ghost. And more importantly you don't look near old enough to be done with Hogwarts, or any school for that matter. So how 'bout I take you over there now, see if Dumbledore in all his high and mighty wisdom can't just sort out what's goin' on here, huh?"

Hermione had listened through it all. Her focus on the hand in front of her. She had nodded at the question she had received and allowed her shaky form to be lead out the door, an arm held protectively by the woman next to her. Despite being in a haze though she had not missed the students confused expressions. And she had certainly not missed the even more confused questions of 'who was that?'.

And so for the first time since she had woken up, halfway between the pub and the looming gates of the school she loved so much, Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her age, and a proud and brave Gryffindor, allowed herself to cry.

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**Authors Note: **And thus begins the storyline.


	4. Chapter 3

**Authors Note: **Well I apologize for the wait, here's the next chapter. I'm _yet again_ inundated with university work. Which is why the next update after this might be a bit slow too. It's not too long now when your questions will be answered, I love reading your speculations on what's happening, some of them are super close, I think one even may have been spot on, but I haven't read the reviews since they were posted. Thank you for them!

Regarding my other story "The Normandy Academy", it's a much bigger story, the chapters are much larger, and the new chapter is a collaborative effort between myself and another fan; hence the long as hell wait on that, be patient though as we work on finalizing the characters and how they all interact.

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If there was something Albus Dumbledore prided himself on it was his ability to both understand a situation and then find a reasonable solution to aforementioned situation. This however, the problem that now sat sniffling in front of his desk was something else entirely. At this point in time he knew three things about the girl; one, her name was Hermione Jean Granger, two, she was a Gryffindor at Hogwarts, and three, she did not attend the Hogwarts he was currently standing in. It was that last point that had him, the most powerful wizard of his time, scratching at his beard.

Hermione herself had ended up in the care of the Headmaster when a rather concerned Madame Rosmerta had turned up at the Hogwarts gates holding the girls arm and pleading with the staff to figure out what was going on. For the first twenty minutes all they could seem to get out of the distressed girl was her name and that she wasn't sure where she was or what was going on. And it wasn't until Minerva McGonagall had walked through the door and relieved Rosmerta of her post, that Hermione had finally started to calm down. She was around friendly faces and it made all the difference.

"Tell me again Miss Granger, what happened the night before you woke this morning," Albus spoke softly so not to frighten the shaken girl any more than she already was.

Hermione sat in a chair they had summoned up, cradling a block of chocolate that the Headmaster had gotten her, "I told you before, I was in a fight with someone, we shot spells at each other and that's it. That's all I remember," she sniffled past her words and looked around the office.

Albus eyed his partner who simply shrugged in return, neither of them had the slightest clue. The information they were getting from the girl hardly gave them enough to work with. That was until Minerva piped up, "Is it possible you may have travelled a significant amount of time Miss Granger? Was there an item nearby that could have reacted so with your spells?"

Hermione shook her head, "I thought that myself too but I saw a glimpse of the Daily Prophet in Hogsmeade, it's the same year as when I fell asleep, earlier in the year but the same one nonetheless," she fiddled with the chocolate bar before her, "So yes and no, yes I've travelled time but not significantly enough for people to j-just forget me..." the tears welled back up in her eyes.

Quick as she could possibly do so Professor McGonagall pulled a chair up beside the girl and comfortingly took her hands, her reassuring words however were never to be said as the old wizard hummed loudly from beside them before looking down at Hermione through his half moon spectacles and smiling, "It seems to me then Miss Granger, that you've not so much as travelled time as you have travelled space," he strode around the room and plucked a book from a shelf, walking back and handing it to her, "This is a collection of photos, Muggles call them 'Yearbooks', if you would kindly go through it and point out any people you might recognize."

Hermione fumbled with the heavy folder before propping it open on her knees and starting from the most recent first years she worked her way backwards. It was then as she reached 1991 that she just stopped and stared into the photo. For a moment she was half expecting to see a younger version of herself, but instead she found herself gazing into the eyes of none other than Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, the former lacking the very distinguishable scar that made him who he was.

Running her fingers over the print she indicated the boys and then several others that she knew and cared for, "These two I know, Harry's my best friend," she said with a smile before realizing her predicament and with a tightened stomach mumbled, "_was_ my best friend anyway."

Minerva let out a disapproving groan at the two names, "Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley are some of the worst trouble makers, directly underneath the Weasley Twins," realizing she was talking to a girl who was perhaps probably still a student she simply smiled and turned away to look at nothing in particular.

Professor Dumbledore shook his head before taking the book back and putting it to rest yet again, "As I was saying," he spoke softly, turning back to Hermione, "It seems to me that you've travelled space rather than time. You know people in this world that do not know you. What I'm most interested in," he sat down as gracefully as he could manage, "is how you managed to move yourself across worlds without damaging yourself or the world you arrived in."

Hermione sat stock still, her eyes burning holes in the floor beneath her. A different world? Of course she knew about them. She'd read enough Muggle fiction to know what an alternate reality looked and sounded like. But to actually cut through space and time and end up in a location so far and different from her own, well that seemed impossible, even for her. And when she looked up at the two Professors she could see in their eyes the unspoken words; they thought it impossible too.

It was then and there however as she sat contemplating her current position that she realized something and she near shot out of her chair at it, "I knew there was something off about the students mingling at Hogsmeade," she said her hands slapping together as she stared at the painting on the far wall depicting the four founders of Hogwarts huddling together, she stalked towards it and jabbed a finger into at the frame, "These four people where I'm from, they weren't _friendly _with each other. Salazar Slytherin felt he was above the other three, and that Purebloods were to be the ruling people, he would have never been caught dead in a painting like this. I don't even think I've seen a painting of him with the other three _ever_. Slytherin's would _not_ be mingling with Gryffindor's if I was anywhere close to home."

Albus Dumbledore in all his mighty wisdom just made a non-committal noise before twirling his finger in a backtracking motion, "Miss Granger did you just insinuate in your world that Purebloods consider themselves the greater people?" he asked with a tone of absolute wonderment.

Hermione saw the need for knowledge glinting in his eye, the same look reflected in Professor McGonagall's. She cleared her throat before nodding and then fumbling with her the hem of her sweater she explained it the best way she could, "Where I'm from, Purebloods think themselves as betters. They are rich, they are powerful and most Pureblood families absolutely detest those of Muggle origins, and equally hate those of their own blood that marry into Muggle-born families."

If she wasn't watching the two teachers like hawks she wouldn't have noticed the excited glance they both seemed to the give each other before smiling back at her and both gesturing for her to sit back down. They called the House Elves for tea and biscuits before Albus, biscuit in hand, leaned forward and said, "Oh Miss Granger we have _much_ to discuss."

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**Meanwhile in Devon, England...**

She awoke with such a fierce start that the small fox-like creature that had been hunting close by had scattered, tripping over its feet in an attempt to escape. The wild haired woman with heavy uneasy breaths stared around her and then screamed in a blood curdling rage when she realized where she was. She'd hidden in these very same reeds the night before and once again the house was not visible, hidden behind a layer of enchantments.

It was then her attention turned to the fact that she'd been left where she had fallen after the assault, _had the dumb oafs thought me dead? DID THEY EVEN CHECK? _She seethed with livid rage as she stormed around the area looking for her wand. _Pretty little Mudblood thinks it's funny to send poor little Bella into the reeds and then leave her for dead,_ she scoffed when she realized that her passing out in the reeds meant the dumb little Gryffindor had won their duel, or had at least obtained help at the last second, _Oh I'll show her alright, just wait till she finds the surprise I'm going to leave her and the vile blood traitors._

She cackled as loud and as scary as she could muster, making sure those beyond the enchantments would hear it and perhaps come looking for her. It was when she found her wand however and fiddled with it in her fingers that she noticed something felt off with the magic that sparked around her. The enchantments up were strong but had no owner, almost as if they were put up intentionally just for her to feel them. Cautiously she poked her wand where the closest protective spell was, feeling a slight tug before her hand passed through unscathed.

"Interesting..." she commented before she smiled a wicked smirk and stepped her entire body through, her eyes blazing with a sick evil when she caught sight of the house, if one could even call it that.

Her former plan was suddenly thrown out the window as she skipped towards the open door and paraded herself inside, more than ready to cast a curse at anybody unsuspecting of her arrival. She was disappointed however to find not a single shred of evidence that people even lived in the shack and instead settled on blowing up random objects; taking quite the amount of pride in melting down the old clock-like-structure.

When a significant amount of damage had been caused, Bellatrix Lestrange called up the image of the Malfoy Manor and with one final glance at her handiwork she disappeared into the storm she had no idea even existed.

* * *

Hermione Granger had been walled up in the Headmasters office till the sun had finally decided to descend towards the horizon outside. In those hours she had been told, and told a great many number of things herself, about where she currently was, and where she had come from. The information she was now carrying made her head swim and her stomach knot. She was a smart girl, she knew straight away that Professor Dumbledore would not have been lying to her, and she'd resigned herself into her new temporary life her, _temporary _being the main point.

She was sixteen, she wasn't a baby, she could handle this. Plus she could see the advantages to the world already, especially after being informed of how everything seemed to run. And she'd been offered a place back in Hogwarts after the weekend was up. They'd be donning her as a travelling kid, a relative of McGonagall's and now a proud student of Gryffindor.

Now though she was being mercilessly dragged around for last minute school shopping in Diagon Alley with an Auror who she immediately disliked because of how...'bubbly' she was. The girl liked to talk, a lot, and Hermione was just content on nodding while browsing. She'd zoned our out after a while and continued to look around, grabbing several informative books on the history of this world that she'd read later, before she came across a most peculiar title that for a moment she wasn't even sure she wanted to grab before her hand had made the decision for her and she was flipping it open.

_The Purebloods and their Shame, by Rita Skeeter._

She loathed the woman in her own world and when she read the first passage describing Purebloods as the most "mongrel, despicable set of people she'd laid eyes upon", Hermione realized she hated her in this world too.

And there was the first piece of information that had been given to her in the Headmasters office. In this place, Purebloods were the lowest of low, frowned upon because of the inbreeding that was thought to occur to keep the bloodlines even remotely pure. And on the opposite side, Muggle-born witches and wizards were, dare she think it, _revered_. She was told it was because they possessed magic when they had no direct link to it. It made them unique in a warped kind of way.

Glancing back down at the book, completely drowning out the Auror in the row behind her, she flipped to the chapter titled, "Blonde's and Blacks and the Strange oh my!". Her jaw hung open the moment she opened the first page, "The Black Family History" was printed in big bold letters and as she read down the family tree she noticed something that caused her heart to skip a beat and for her to suddenly feel ill.

Listed halfway down the tree was what people from her time referred to as the "Black Sisters" only this tree depicted the thing that she dreaded most, Bellatrix Lestrange, was not listed as ever existing. She flipped through the rest of the Black's history, Andromeda had still run away with Ted Tonks, Narcissa had still married Malfoy; not a single mention of the crazed woman at all.

Hermione dropped the book with a thud and leant against the case, her mind racing a mile a minute; _What if my spell killed her? What if I'm the reason she's not alive. No don't be a fool, it was down now, it would still show her birth. Maybe she doesn't exist. Maybe she's like you. A family name but nothing to connect it with. No that monster is NOTHING like you. She's despicable, she's the reason you're here to begin with._

In a small fit of rage she scooped the book off the floor and called for the Auror to come and pay, essentially dragging her out of the shop the moment the transaction was done. The girl had trouble keeping up with the fuming student, "Slow down Miss Granger, we're in no hurry."

Hermione huffed and turned on the spot, glancing down one of the side alleys to Knockturn Alley, a far less dim looking place than she remembered it being, "Sorry," she said, honest sincerity evident in her voice, she wasn't even sure why she was angry, "was there much else we needed? It's been a long day."

The girl smiled and quickly fumbled in her pockets for the list, "Not that I can see Miss Granger no. Professor Dumbledore has acquired you a room at the Leaky Cauldron until they can get a bed set up for you in Gryffindor's Common Room," the woman handed her a key and then a transfigured suitcase the size of her palm, "He also ensured me you'd know how to work that suitcase. If you don't call for a house elf, they're more than friendly."

She happily took the key and after several minutes of farewells inside the entrance to the pub, Hermione Granger was left alone - again. She climbed the stairs to her room, passing a man who looked so similar to Lucius Malfoy she had to do a triple take before she just decided it can't have been him, and walked into her room, flopping her belongings onto the bed.

The room was nice, the Headmaster sure knew how to pull strings when they needed tugging. She had a clear, quiet view of the shopping street beneath her from her window and found even when she popped it open the noise was just a dull kind of sound, as if the alley was leagues away.

Night fell quicker than she expected it to. She had been so locked up in reading the Rita Skeeter book that she hadn't even noticed the house elf come into the light the candles, the only thing knocking her from her trance was the smell of dinner now sitting on her study table. Putting the book down with a hungry grin she rose from her seat by the window, more than intent on eating, bathing and then hopping into the lavish bed.

That was until she felt something cold sweep over her and when she turned to look back what it was, standing in the entrance to Knockturn Alley was a woman she recognized far too well and not at all both at the same time. Bellatrix Lestrange stood huddled close to a wall and glaring daggers at passerby's. Hermione glanced down at the book on the seat before turning her gaze back to the woman. She didn't exist in this world. And that could only mean a single thing. She'd followed her here.

It was that realization, and the fact she was standing in a position that if the woman simply looked up she would see the girl peering out the window, that made her huddle her way back inside and tuck herself beneath the large blanket, barely paying mind the meal she had wanted only moments ago. Bellatrix Lestrange had followed her here, and by now she would have realized her Dark Lord didn't exist, that he never existed, that her family was in ruins and she had nowhere to go. And if Hermione wasn't mistaken, which she highly doubted she was, Bellatrix would be out for blood.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

The thought of even moving from her bed that night didn't even cross Hermione's mind; she hadn't eaten the previous dinner and hadn't yet bathed. And even now as the sun was far above the horizon she was still huddled beneath the sheets staring blankly at the window. She had hardly slept a wink, scared the crazed woman knew she was here and was going to clamber through the window and strangle her in her sleep. But her death never came, there wasn't even a slight hint that Bellatrix knew she was here, or that she was even alive.

Arya, the Auror from the day before, as Hermione realized what her name was after reading the note she was given, arrived with a pop. She was young and pretty, well prettier than most people she knew anyway, and she had an exceptionally warm personality. If she was being honest, the girl reminded her of Tonks.

"Still not out of bed I see?" Arya jested with a laugh, tugging at the blanket, "Professor Dumbledore said you might be a bit reluctant, all that travelling with your family and whatnot."

For a moment Hermione had no idea what she was referring to before she remembered the story Professor McGonagall had come up with regarding where she had been most of her life. She simply nodded and sat up, still dressed in the previous days clothes.

"Come'on then, go take a bath," she chucked a towel at Hermione along with soap, "I'll lay out some clothes for you then you can meet me downstairs for breakfast. Technically I'm not meant to let you out of my sight today, but a girl needs her privacy."

Hermione smiled and shifted off into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her with a click but not before noticing Arya sifting through her clothes for something she deemed appropriate. She swore she heard from behind the door, "Ooh Muggle jeans, I wonder if they'd fit me..." before the words were muffled by the sound of running water.

Despite that the water felt like heaven on her skin, Hermione quickly scrubbed any dirt clean and within minutes was back out of the tub, frantically drying herself off. Her fear and apprehension from the previous night had not yet died down and she'd be damned if Bellatrix Lestrange caught her in such an undignified manner.

Stepping back out from the bathroom she spied the clothes set out for her and couldn't help but laugh. It was essentially what the Auror herself was wearing only without the cloak. And enchanted to be Gryffindor colours too. She smiled as quickly slipped into them, doing one last check of the room before grabbing her wand and her palm sized suitcase, slipping it into the duffle bag she had taken from the Weasley's house the previous day, before she basically sprinted out the door.

In doing so however she ran headlong into a body sending the person crashing into the ground. In a frantic move Hermione scrambled down to their side "I'm so sorry, I wasn't watching..." her voice however trailed off as she noted the silver-blonde hair that covered the woman's head. In an instant she wanted to run. She'd recognize that hair from anywhere and it meant only one thing - danger.

"Mrs. Malfoy," she managed to choke out around her fear, scrambling back to her feet.

The woman gave her a scathing glare before gracefully raising back to her feet, sweeping the dust from her dress, "It would do you good to watch where you're going, or has nobody ever taught you manners?" she spat, her voice ice cold with contempt.

Hermione shrunk back against her door in horrid fear, surely the woman wasn't exactly like her worlds counterpart. Surely the fall of the pureblood families had changed her. Her breathing was ragged as she nodded, tears sprung at her eyes. _I knew that man was Lucius, I knew it. Had I bothered to investigate I'd have never stayed here. _

In that split second however she saw something in the woman's face she never thought she'd ever see on that of a Malfoy. Regret. Narcissa Malfoy looked as sorry as a child when they were found having broken a vase. She gripped at her dress for a moment before rather ungracefully spluttering out, "I'm sorry I shouldn't have snapped. Least of all at a young girl. Are you alright?"

The complete change in personality had Hermione stumped enough that she could just stare at the woman before nodding. She heard a relieved sigh from her before Narcissa simply nodded to herself and then strode off awkwardly down the hall, leaving Hermione to try to piece together what happened.

However before she could even gather her thoughts, a voice from the opposite end of the hall made her jump to attention, "Standing in the hall talking to strangers eh?" Arya laughed as she advanced on her, "Should avoid that bunch. Narcissa Malfoy is pleasant enough, her husband is a total arse though, still raves on about the 'good old Pureblood' days," she took Hermione's arm, "Come'on, breakfast is nearly served, wouldn't want you to go back to Hogwarts on an empty stomach, hmm?"

They arrived in the pub moments later, Hermione still being dragged around like a ragdoll before she found herself seated at a corner table and a steaming plate of eggs and bacon laid out in front of her. Any previous doubts or worries she had before were instantly wiped away at the thought of food and much to Arya's amusement she tucked in like a hungry animal who hadn't eaten in days.

Halfway through shovelling a forkful of bacon and toast into her mouth, her eyes scanning the pub before her, she noticed something that made her choke on her food and drop the fork with a loud clang. Arya tapped her back helplessly from across the table before setting water in front of her which Hermione gulped down and breathed deeply.

"Well that teaches you to eat like a ravenous lion now doesn't it?" Arya joked before pushing the food back to her.

Hermione nodded before she pretended to be interested in eating again, instead looking back at the same place in the pub she was before. She wasn't mistaken in what she saw. Sitting at a corner table in the shadows, slouched and completely disregarding those around her, was the woman that Hermione dreaded most in seeing. She was glad when she realized the woman hadn't recognised her arrival yet, nor did she seem too interested in recognising _anyone_ in the place at all.

She looked beat down and ragged, as if coming to the world and discovering its differences had taken a painful toll on her. And if even for a moment, Hermione found herself feeling sorry for the dark witch; before she realized who she was thinking about and backtracked her thoughts with a scowl. It wasn't in Hermione's nature to hate someone, she didn't hold grudges and she believed everyone had a chance of redeeming themselves for their wrongdoings. Bellatrix Lestrange wasn't an exception. Hermione loathed the things the woman had done and thought redemption was such a far off thing it would never actually happen, but she didn't hate her. She feared her.

"Arya," she said, her voice trembling in fear before she coughed and became passive again, "That woman in the shadows, do you happen to know her?"

The Auror looked around before settling on the aforementioned woman, tilting her head this way and that before she made rather negative noise and turned back, "Don't think so. Looks a tad loopy though. Why? Do you know her?"

Hermione wanted to say yes, she wanted to explain everything that had happened to the girl, but she had been forbidden by Albus Dumbledore himself. So instead she shook her head and returned to her food with a dejected sigh. Over the next twenty minutes and two cups of tea, Hermione Granger had come up with a plan, admittedly not a very good one, but a plan nonetheless.

Arya had stood up to pay for the food and drinks and in the few moments that Hermione was out of her sight, she darted across the bar and then slowed to a walk before she reached the table her sights were set on. She could feel her heart beating against her ribcage and a sweat quickly built up on the back of her neck. Somewhere in her head a voice was screaming that this was a terrible idea and that if she wasn't careful she'd be dead before she could even draw her wand.

Of course Bellatrix Lestrange couldn't help but glance up as she felt someone pass by her lone table in the shadows and what greeted her caused her eyes to flash such a dangerous shade of black that Hermione actually trembled. That was however before Bellatrix looked around, back at the frozen girl before her and just growled before hanging her head.

She'd learned from the moment she had left the Weasley house that wherever she was now was not her home world, everything was different in the ways that hurt her most. Her Dark Lord didn't exist, her family was a shadow of their former glory, and her sisters didn't even recognise her. _Nobody_ recognised her. And the timid girl close by her was no exception. She was a smart woman and she knew if she attacked a person in this place, despite who she once knew them to be, she'd be dead or locked up before she could even plead not guilty. And Bellatrix Lestrange rather liked the idea of living and staying out of Azkaban thank you very much.

Hermione however was completely confused by the woman's actions, she had been expecting a hex or at the very least a thrown glass. Instead she received a scathing glare before she noticed the forlorn look that reappeared on the woman's downcast face. Willing up any courage she had remaining, noticing that Arya was frantically searching for her and had disappeared up the stairs, she stepped forward and made a loud enough noise against the table to rouse the woman from staring at it.

She locked eyes with her and the swirling pits of hatred made Hermione squirm uncomfortably, forcing herself to look anywhere but in them. Bellatrix hissed in the lowest, scariest voice she could possibly muster, "Run along stupid girl, has nobody ever told you not to talk to strangers?"

"They told me never talk to Death Eaters that's for sure," Hermione retorted, watching the realization dawn on the woman's face before hatred quickly replaced it and a wand had appeared in her hand, "If you attack me you'll be arrested, don't be foolish."

Bellatrix snarled, baring her teeth like a wild animal before complying and pointing her wand back to the table. Her breathing was deep and heavy, and if the look in her eyes meant anything, Hermione knew she was in a world of trouble, "Listen," she managed to say in the calmest voice possible before she was cut off.

"No you listen to me you filthy little Mudblood," a snarl erupted from Bellatrix, low enough though that only the girl could hear her, "You tell me what you've done _right now_ or I'll throw my better judgement out the window and make sure you know just how painful the Cruciatis curse actually can be."

Hermione glanced around the pub, still no sign of Arya, before she turned back to the woman and slammed a scrawled on piece of napkin in front of her, "Not here, I'll explain everything I've been told but not here. You can get to the Shrieking Shack by that time and date?"

"Oh muddy has a death wish, asking to meet me alone."

"You aren't in a position anymore to taunt me Bellatrix. As I'm sure you've already noticed Purebloods aren't the be all and end all here. And I'm doing _this_," she gestured between them and then at the napkin, "against _my_ better judgement. If you want to know more, you'll meet me there in two days time," she watched as Arya descended the stairs again and was frantically searching the lower pub for her, "Whether you like it or not, I'm all you've got to go off in this world," she quickly shoved a few galleons at her, "Buy yourself a meal while you're here, you look horrid."

And with that final insult, Hermione swivelled around and disappeared back into the crowd, ramming right into a terrified Arya before she found herself huddled in arms and a voice telling her to never do it again. On the way out of the pub she glanced back and found Bellatrix staring at the napkin and the galleons, before her jet black eyes found Hermione's own. She noticed even from as far away as she was, that the hatred that existed moments beforehand was replaced with something she couldn't quite put her finger on, before the door to the place was closed and she was being apparated to Hogsmeade.

Bellatrix Lestrange watched the door swing shut before she fumbled with the coins on the table and then looked at the napkin. She wanted to pursue the girl and tell her to shove her meeting up somewhere the sun didn't shine, but instead she pocketed the time and date beneath her cloak. She didn't like the idea of having to go meet the Mudblood anymore than she was sure the Mudblood wanted to meet her. But as the girl had said, she was the only source of information Bellatrix had; and she'd be damned if she let finding out what was going on slip through her fingers.

* * *

**Authors Note: **Eh this felt rushed I know, but Hermione's not out of the water yet. I'm trying to take into account how smart both the witches are, rather than working just on how crazy Bella is like some fics do. That's not to say you wont see her crazier side though...


	6. Chapter 5

**Authors Note: **To make up for the rushed last chapter, and the week and a bit break I've had from this to work on assignments, I've written this long chapter. Hope you enjoy it. It's a bit 'fluffy' I think the term is.

* * *

**Chapter Five**

In the two days that Hermione had been back at Hogwarts and with the fateful hour of the meeting closing in fast, she had realized several things. Firstly she had no idea if the passages in the castle still existed or whether the one beneath the Whomping Willow lead to the Shrieking Shack at all. Secondly she realized just how much danger she was putting herself in going to the shack alone, her magic was nothing compared to the Dark Witches, in this world or the next. And lastly she realized just how far ahead of her classes and fellow peers she was, and that beyond everything is what bothered her the most.

On her first day they tried to give her a reprieve from the work but she took none of it and jumped right into the fray, until she realized they were a half a year behind her current workload and her enthusiasm had turned to dismay. She spent most of her spare time in the library researching things she wasn't even sure made sense to her. The idea of 'moving worlds' as such hadn't any conclusive study done on it. And the further she tried to push herself to find the answer for why she was here, or how to get back, the more confused she became.

And now, with very little sleep behind her, she was perched in the Gryffindor Commons trying to prepare herself for the night ahead. The students around her had tried to ask several questions and got automated responses in return; her thoughts were occupied elsewhere and subconsciously she made note to apologise to all of them later. As the last of the students drifted off to their dorms, Hermione finally allowed herself to relax even for a second; her wand twirling circles in her hand. _She's more powerful than you, if she wants to kill you she can, don't go on the offensive, stay behind cover...not that it will help any, she's bound to be more crazed than usual_.

An exhausted hand swept down her face, wiping the feeling of sleep from her eyes. As the last door up the stairs finally closed she launched to her feet and made her way out of the portrait, ignoring the Fat Lady's protest at her rude awakening. She moved silently through the halls, knowing them far too well from her time with Harry that she hardly needed to use Lumos at all. And as she reached the Great Hall and made her way out into the yard, more than aware that Dumbledore was probably tracking her every move, Hermione felt her tiredness disappear quickly replaced with a trepidation far worse than she had experienced before. She was going to meet a Death Eater. Not just any Death Eater, the worst of the worst. If her friends could see her now she'd no doubt be regarded as crazy as the woman herself.

The Whomping Willow protested loudly at her arrival but not before being frozen in place as she quickly huddled her way beneath it, frantically searching for the passage opening. Of course it was still there, albeit under a different trunk but there nonetheless. Scampering down into the hole she quickly made her way through the dirt, her wand light bouncing off the walls and creating a far more eerie feeling than she remembered from her third year. She also remembered it being a much shorter journey than her third year and by the time she reached the wooden floorboards and the stairs she was slightly out of breath.

Pausing for a moment to regain her composure she listened above her, her teeth sinking into her lip slightly when she realized she couldn't hear anything in the house except the constant drone of the wind. Gripping her wand tightly she climbed the stairs one by one, her one and only weapon pointed out in front of her. As she reached the landing and took a quick look around, she ventured in more before she found herself to be truly alone.

The sound of the wind and the occasional creak of floorboards were all that greeted her; the bone biting cold of the house caused her to take residence beside the old fireplace, lighting a small fire as a source of warmth. Ten minutes after the specified time of meeting had gone by, Hermione began to wonder whether the dark witch would turn up at all. Perhaps the woman didn't want answers after all; and somewhere inside of her, Hermione realized that the idea the witch would never come made her upset.

Another fifteen minutes ticked by slowly, the chilling wind and night air causing her body to shiver and the tips of her fingers to lose feeling. It was then however she felt rather than saw the presence of another in the house. Swivelling around with her wand drawn she faced a sight she realized she'd probably never see again.

Bellatrix Lestrange stood in the doorway wrapped up in a large blanket and a detestable look on her face at the sight of the Mudblood. Silence enveloped the pair before the older woman finally spat out, "I'm legitimately surprised you were stupid enough to turn up Muddy."

Hermione remained silent for a while longer before she realized the witch wasn't holding a wand to her face and she cautiously lowered her own before taking a long hard look at the woman. She heard the words spill from her mouth before she could even think about stopping them, "You look terrible."

As quick as she had said it though she regretted it, subconsciously her hand gripped her wand harder and she swallowed the lump forming in her throat. Just before she was going to croak out an apology though, the dark witch made a disgruntled hiss before walking in and plopping herself down by the fire.

_No retaliation. No snarky comments. No nothing. _

Hermione warily eyed the woman before taking a seat on the decrepit bed off to the side. She was still half expecting Bellatrix to throw a tantrum. In fact as the situation was right now, she would have rather the dark witch throw a tantrum. Curses she could handle. This eerie silence and the way the witch was now, was frankly unsettling.

"Dumbledore seems to think we're in a different world, one that runs parallel to ours," she began, eager to break the silence with the reasons they came here for in the first place, "He's working on a way to send us home."

For a moment it looked as if Bellatrix wasn't going to acknowledge the explanation at all until she just decided to spit out, "I thought you were supposed to be the brightest witch of your age?"

"Excuse me?" Hermione seemed genuinely confused which quickly warped into utter terror as the dark haired woman rose to her feet at an alarming speed.

"There's no way home Muddy, we're stuck here," her voice teetered in between a whisper and a shriek, "Take a look around you, when have you ever heard of someone who could travel worlds and return to their own?"

Hermione stood her ground, her legs twitching with fear, "There's always hope, we have Dumbledore helping us"

"Dumbledore is an old fool!" her voice finally broke into a shrill scream.

"At least he's trying! What have _you_ been doing since we got here?"

The accusation hung in the air for a tense few seconds before all hell broke loose. Hermione was hardly prepared for the hurtled candlestick and when it slammed into her arms that had come up to shield her face she yelped in pain. She struggled to get her bearings again and barely managed to dodge a dusty old book before a spell was thrown her way, knocking her off her feet. The next thing she knew she was being covered by the dark witch, an accusatory wand held at her throat.

"D-don't," she cried out, her own wand far out of her reach, "Please, please don't, if you do this then what?"

Bellatrix considered the question, she hadn't thought of that. The Mudblood was her only link back home, perhaps her only _chance_ at getting back home, slim and unbelievable as it was. She looked down at the sobbing girl before begrudgingly rising off her, making a whispered comment about dirty blood covering her dress as she moved back off to the side.

Hermione rose slowly, gingerly touching the bruises that had quickly formed on her arms from the candlestick. Cradling her arms against her chest she looked up at the crazed woman and with a shaky voice she muttered, "I'll owl you, I promise, whenever a new discovery is made or when Dumbledore figures it out."

"You really don't get it do you," Bellatrix cackled but the desperate tone of the laugh gave away her own fear, "You hold too much faith in your dearest Headmaster, there's no way back. But by all means, waste your time searching for something that doesn't exist."

In all the time that Hermione had known Bellatrix, little as it was, she never picked the woman for holding even an inch of fear. And yet here she was, scared as the girl herself; terrified of the world before them and even more so of the prospect of being stuck here. However badly she wanted to call the woman on it, she stayed silent and instead shakily rose to her feet, snatching her wand from the floor.

After a few more moments of the tense silence enveloping them before Hermione finally gestured toward the door, "Now you know as much as I know, I'm going to leave, okay?" it wasn't meant to come out as much a question, but she felt the need for an _okay _to be replied anyway; when no reply was given however and she was still faced with the dark witches back she stepped closer to her as she muttered a barely audible, "I'm sorry," before she moved away again and scampered toward the door.

As the wind and bitter cold in the doorway flooded her sense, Hermione completely missed the muttered, "So am I."

* * *

Her trek back through the tunnel was no better than on her way to the house, and as she emerged out the other side, quickly looking back down in the darkened pit, half expecting to see the woman had followed her but finding nothing, she jogged back up towards the school. Of course much to her disappointment, at the gates was a none too happy Professor McGonagall, arms crossed and her lips in a tight scowl.

Hermione slowed down, attempting to hide the bruises under her sweater before she had her throat ripped out by the teacher, "Professor," she managed before she was magically tugged along behind the woman towards the Headmasters spiral staircase.

The customary candy inspired password was uttered before the stairs came to life and she was dragged up them too before McGonagall finally spoke, mostly to the humbled man in front of her who was midway through a late night snack, "Right on time, as you just happened to guess," the comment came out in a way that sounded very much to Hermione as if the teacher had just lost a bet.

Dumbledore smiled and glanced over his spectacles, "I take it you enjoyed your walk to the shack Miss Granger," he spoke, a knowing glint in his eye.

She wanted to explain everything to them, especially about how Bellatrix had ended up in the world too; but the intense fear that they would hunt her down, the only link back to home she had, had a far stronger tug on her than wanting to give an explanation. Finally she just simply settled for, "I felt like a walk, I've been stressed since arriving here is all."

"We understand this Miss Granger," McGonagall spoke from beside her, "but our students aren't allowed outside their dormitories let alone outside the castles protection at night. Surely the Hogwarts in your world had similar if the not the same rules?"

She was going to start apologizing profusely before the amused man spoke again, "A few years ago we had students run off there every couple of weeks, I had a painting set up in the hallway to monitor the guests," the panic in her eyes was more than enough answer for him, "You know some rather strange people for being in this world for less than a week Miss Granger."

Hermione felt tears well up in her eyes, of course he had to be more of a great wizard in this world than he was in her own. Placing a shaky hand to her mouth she looked everywhere but the two teachers, "If you remember correctly," she started, her voice tired and filled with a sadness she felt she shouldn't own, "I told you that I ended up here after a scuffle with a..._friend_. Well while I was in Diagon Alley, I came across her. We're lost," her tears threatened to spill over as she clung to her bruised arms, "All we have is each other and right now we're not on good terms, I don't think we ever will be. I had to see her, I had to explain; the least we owe each other is that civility."

Dumbledore seemed genuinely confused for a moment before he glanced around the room and then back at Hermione, "If she was your friend Miss Granger, why did you return empty handed? I'm sure we could have found a place for her somewhere."

It was at that comment that Hermione realized what seemed wrong about Bellatrix in the shack. The blanket. The look of sleep deprivation. She had nowhere. The likelihood that she had been sleeping in the streets or in the seedy bars made Hermione shudder before she finally allowed the tears to fall, "Because she never would have come, you don't understand," she looked at the teachers, "She hates Hogwarts in my world, detests the both of you. She'd rather be alone and being the proud witch that she is than take help from you, or better yet, take help from a Muggle born"

"So despite the uncommon grounds you share," he spoke in a kind, knowing tone, "and despite the fact you are as much enemies as you are friends, you would rather know her to be safe?"

"She's my _only_ link back home."

* * *

The meeting had dragged on only for a handful more minutes after that before Hermione was finally escorted back to her room and she had more than happily crawled under the covers, cast a silencing charm over her bed and cried. Of all the times Harry Potter had created a source of stress for her, nothing was as stressful as the feelings this world was producing. She hated feeling so alone. She hated seeing this worlds Harry Potter and the Weasley family and knowing they weren't her friends. She hated not having a family to call her own.

But most of all, she hated knowing that somewhere out there, Bellatrix Lestrange, darkest witch of her time, enemy to the Order, was huddling beneath a blanket in a crummy hotel, or worse, a ditch on the side of the road.

And so after an hour of laying awake, the dried tears stinging her eyes, Hermione made a choice. She would drown herself in research until the students at Hogwarts had caught up to where she was before she was transported. She had to have at least an _idea_ of how to get back before that time came. At least _something_ she could send Bellatrix, a shred of hope. Not just for the dark witch, but for herself as well.

* * *

Weeks of painstaking research, of searching libraries and bookstores for books, had turned to months and before Hermione realized it had happened, the school had caught up to her old timeline. She had come up with nothing. There was not even a single shred of evidence that suggested they could return. It hadn't of course taken two months for Hermione to figure out that maybe Bellatrix had been right; that was she putting too much trust in Albus Dumbledore.

And today as she had her face buried in a book, half chatting to Ginny Weasley, a friend development she _somehow_ managed to make around all the research and avoidance; she heard a voice whisper her name. It was as if was a disconnected voice though, it was faint and tinny; and for a moment she thought she had just imagined it. However moments later a more insistent _Granger_ was hissed and she nearly shot out of her chair out, instead choosing just to straighten up completely, shocking Ginny out of her own conversation.

"Hermione?" she questioned, wary of the girls sudden change in attitude.

"Didn't you hear it?"

"Hear what?" she said, looking around the nearly deserted library.

Hermione slouched back down, letting out a terrified shaky breath, "I don't know, I thought...I thought I heard someone calling my name."

Ginny smiled wickedly before gesturing to the walls around her, "Hogwarts _is_ haunted you know, sometimes they say if you listen closely it calls your name and it sucks you in, never to be seen or heard from again."

Hermione deadpanned, turning to the face the giggling Weasley before she just shoved her lightly and began packing up the books she was reading. Obviously all of it was going to her head, she'd been into the books since she had woken up after all. However as she reached a shelf and let go of the book, watching it float magically back to the position, she glanced out the library window to the forest below and got the distinct feeling the trees were looking back at her.

And then she heard it again, only this time far more vocal than the last two. Her name. Quickly turning to Ginny and offering an apology she darted out the door. She had no idea why she even thought this was a good idea, but a loud insistent voice was telling her it was the correct thing to do. The grounds had grown warmer over the past few months and she basically sprinted past students studying under the sun.

Rocketing down the stone steps towards the forest she stopped meters before it, her breath heavy and her heat beating like crazy in her chest. She'd forgotten what running was like. The dense forest before her was all that greeted her however and she scrunched her face up in confusion. She _knew_ she heard the voice calling her name, and somehow she just _knew_ it had come from the forest.

It was then however in the darkness she found what she was looking for, two piercing golden brown eyes were staring back at her from beyond some bushes. Warily she waded past the schools barriers and ventured in, all against her better judgement. The eyes remained steady and when she was finally able to see what owned them, Hermione nearly fell over in shock.

An oversized mangy mutt, much like Sirius's animagus, hid itself in the thick of the forest undergrowth. It's fur was in knots and it looked far too thin for its size. And yet for the strangest reason, despite its clearly visible fangs Hermione looked down at and spoke in a far calmer voice than she expected, "Bellatrix?"

The dog was still for a few moments before it nodded its head at the question, but not without a strange look of shame crossing its features. Hermione allowed herself to relax, a breath being let out she hadn't realized she had been holding. She carefully lowered herself to an overturned log and looked at the beast before her. Of course Bellatrix Lestrange, _no_, Bellatrix Black, had the same animagus as her cousin. She briefly wondered if all Black's had a dog animagus before the creature moved slightly closer, knocking her from her thoughts.

"I haven't found anything," Hermione spoke, somehow knowing the question that was being begged of her, "I've been working hard for months, but there's nothing. Whenever I ask Dumbledore he tells me they are working on it."

Bellatrix made an obvious _I told you so_ motion before she saw the younger girls downcast face and instantly regretted it. An eerie silence from the forest encased them before Hermione spoke again, locking eyes with the mutt, "Have you been here long?"

Of course no verbal answer came and yet a voice whispered in her head the answer to her question, "_A couple of months, providing the oaf and his hound don't find me, the forests are safer than the world beyond_."

Hermione perked up at the voice in her head again, realizing that Bellatrix was using a form of magic she had never encountered before, and yet before she could ask the question it was answered for her, "_It's a form of Legilimens, the Dark Lord taught it to me. Prolonged use takes more energy than I am currently able to offer though._"

Without really noticing, Bellatrix had moved alarmingly close to Hermione and for the first time in a long time, Hermione felt safe. She looked at the golden brown eyes, so different and warm from the usual near onyx ones, and gingerly reached out, barely thinking that if she wanted to, Bellatrix could snap her hand in half with her jaws; and she touched the dog's fur, petting down the side of her neck.

It was a strange sight, and for the both of them it felt even stranger. Hermione smiled and continued to stroke her hand through the fur. The comfortable silence and their current positions lasted for more time than either were expecting it to; and by the time they had realized how much time had passed the sun had reached the horizon and was descending ever so slowly.

Hermione let a sigh as she stared at the setting sun, realizing that sooner or later she'd have to get up and return to the school. It was then however that she felt the creature shift beneath her hand and a mangy head was flopped onto her knees and a body curled against her legs. Hermione glanced down at Bellatrix, her eyes closed and her ears in a contented position.

She gently continued patting the dog-like-creature of her former enemy, watching her tail flop back and forth happily. It was in this strangely comforting moments however Hermione realized what was going on. They both had been craving the same thing for the past several months and yet it had taken them till now, or rather it had taken Bellatrix till now, to rear her head about the subject. They missed home. The missed familiarity. And while the boundaries between them still existed, this warped meeting was as close to familiar as they were going to get.

All that was left of the sun was a slither on the horizon when Hermione finally decided to break the silence, "Come back to Hogwarts with me?"

Bellatrix's ears warily perked up at that and she lifted her head from the girls legs, staring at her face with a completely indistinguishable expression before she huffed warm air in her direction and flopped her head ungracefully back into Hermione's lap.

In the past few months she'd barely slept a few hours a night, forever on guard from everything around her; she was a dog, not a wolf, and catching a meal came few and far between. More than anything though she had missed human interaction; it was like her time in Azkaban all over again only less Dementors and more of the forests haunts.

Hermione gently started patting her again before standing up, gently moving Bellatrix's head from her lap as she did so, "Just come on, if we give you a bath maybe Dumbledore will fall for you just being my runaway pet?" Hermione half joked before she saw the baring of teeth and immediately took a few wary steps backwards.

Bellatrix found the entire statement rather unamusing before she simply settled for dragging her paws after the girl, knowing as soon as they reached the gates anyhow, her spell would wash away and she'd be human once more. She dreaded that, she was sure she looked and smelled terrible. And yet she padded after her, sticking ever close to the girl's side.

As they neared the school however and entered through the doorway, Bellatrix was surprised to see she hadn't changed back and when she glanced up at an equally confused Hermione, she saw standing in the entrance to the Great Hall the man she detested even more than she hated Harry Potter. Albus Dumbledore.

Rolling her head with a low growl she saw him smile at her and then his voice spoke out, "I believe Miss Granger that you'll find a bathroom on the fourth floor conveniently out of use at the moment, and an unused classroom nearby," he looked at the two of them over his spectacles before walking into the crowded dinner hall.

Hermione glanced down at Bellatrix who looked equally surprised and taken aback by the encounter before she quickly ushered her up the stairs towards the aforementioned bathroom, throwing wary glances in every which direction. To both their surprises not a student was seen and when they moved into the bathroom they both let out held breaths and stared at each other, Hermione laughing in a way she hadn't done since arriving in the world.

"You may hate him, but you have to hand it to Dumbledore," she said, still giggling, "He runs the school with style."

Bellatrix ignored her comment and padded further into the bathroom, taking in the fact bathing supplies had been left out beside the warm pool-like bath area. She glanced back at the girl before her, half tempted to make her wash her dog form for her before she decided that she herself was in need of a bath more.

"_I'm not a child, I can bathe myself_," she spoke into Hermione's head again, startling the girl from staring around the bathroom herself.

"R-right," Hermione stuttered out before gesturing back at the door, "I'll just go wait in the classroom down the hall," and with faster steps than she had taken all day she scrambled back out of the bathroom and slammed the door closed behind her, leaning against it.

Her heart beating wildly in her chest, whether it was from fear or not she wasn't quite sure. With one last glance back at the closed door with the "Out of Order" sign scribbled on it, she walked down the hallway to the classroom Dumbledore had mentioned.

Inside it looked nothing like an unused classroom, the desks had been put elsewhere and the floor had be cleaned out to make room for a rather large bed, a small closet and few other necessities. It was when she took a serious look around that she was rather reminded of a teachers room. And the thought of Bellatrix being a teacher at Hogwarts made Hermione laugh loud enough for the sound to travel across walls into the bathroom.

* * *

Bellatrix had long finished scrubbing herself clean, she had even taken the chance to half scrub her animagus self clean; now she was just biding her time before she went to see the Gryffindor again. Finally after finding the stained glass too boring to look at, she rose out of the bath and dried herself off before dressing back into what she assumed was probably borrowed teachers clothes, because hers had gone conveniently missing, probably in the hands of the house elves.

Towel drying her mess of curls she sauntered out of the bathroom and down the hallway before pausing at the door. She hadn't really thought of what she was meant to say to the Mudblood, she still hated her, and yet here they were; stuck in a place so far from home with only each other as their ties back to it.

Finally she decided to push it open and found the girl perched on the bed, leaning back against the headboard reading a book. Hermione glanced up as she heard the door open and actually smiled at the woman before her before she gestured to the study table, "Some house elves dropped by dinner while you were in the bathroom."

Bellatrix blanched, she was half expecting the girl to be rude to her, anything but being as nice as she was now, and still as silent as ever she stalked over to the food and grabbed the plate before moving to the far corner of the room and sitting down. Hermione shook her head and returned to her book, a Muggle one obviously; Bellatrix could tell by the poorly done binding.

Her dinner therefore was mostly eaten in silence until she loudly returned the plate to the table and stalked closer toward the bed, "Move Muddy, as far as I recall _Dumbledore _set this room up for me, not you," the Headmasters name was spoken in such a spiteful way that it made Hermione cringe slightly, all but ignoring the quip at her blood status.

And yet she complied, sliding off the bed and returning the book to the nightstand, before nodding to the woman in a complying manner, slowly moving backwards toward the door. The strangest thoughts had suddenly invaded her mind though as she walked. She found herself barely wanting to leave, despite the crude names she was being called. The loneliness had gotten to her finally and now that she had that single shred of hope and home back, she didn't want to let it go again. She admitted to herself silently that she was afraid she'd wake tomorrow and Bellatrix would have disappeared back into the forest.

However as she reached for the doorhandle she heard the all too familiar voice invade her mind again, "_I said move, not leave, how daft are you Mudbaby?_"

And when she swivelled back around to lecture the woman on the name calling she was met with a clean version of the dog she had spent her afternoon with. She had no idea how Bellatrix had managed to get as close as she had but she found it hardly unnerved her. She smiled down at the dog, watching as it wagged its tail in what looked like a warped sense of happiness, before she walked back to the bed and sat back down.

Bellatrix followed, jumping up beside her, causing the bed to noticeably dip and within seconds of getting comfortable she flopped her large black head in the Gryffindor's lap, expecting the same treatment she had received earlier. She knew the girl, at least for now, trusted her more as the mutt than she did when she was out of her animagus form. And right now, she'd settle for the girls company as a dog, than no company at all.

Against her better judgement and fighting her body's need for sleep, Hermione complied and began gently stroking the head offered to her, finding the same peaceful place she had found in the forest hours ago. She realized that they both needed the company right now, whether they wanted it or not. And she was more than happy to stay where she was.

And that is how they stayed well into the night, Hermione reading the book in one hand, the other making long strokes down the animagus form of a person she thought she'd hate for the rest of her life. When it came time to finally sleep however she felt Bellatrix weigh her down, and she stayed where she was, allowing the woman to curl into her side with a half contented half unamused huff.

Hermione however welcomed the warmth of the animagus beside her, and soon fell into a slumber where she dreamed of home, only in a different light than she had the last few months. It was no longer dreams of wanting to return, rather dreams of feeling more secure than she had ever felt before, and yet she knew that feeling did not come from anybody she once considered her friends. And that thought is what made her asleep body smile, a subconscious hand wrapped around the dog form at her side.

* * *

**Authors Note 2: **Wow long chapter, hope you enjoyed it, I spent a good few hours writing it. The idea and feeling of being far away from family and friends, and then turning towards someone who was once considered unfriendly, isn't uncommon to me; so I just used my own experience to write how Bellatrix and Hermione would be thinking. Hope it's alright!


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