A.N: Completely AU for both the Potterverse and Star trek rebootverse! You have been warned! I have completely gone off the tracks laid down here so expect a bumpy ride.

Chapter one:
A Man called Q.

The fragmented pieces of the claustrophobic, encompassed world around her pierced Harry's subconscious mind like needles into a straw doll. Sharp, pinching and in a random pattern that she could not hesitate where the next blow, or rather, next sensory overload would come from. The results were the same, a flutter of long lashes against sharp, sweeping cheekbone, the dilation of an overblown pupil, the scrunch of a nose that spoke of dizzying confusion for the split seconds one lingered between the waking world and the land of obtuse sleep. Trapped. Everything felt trapped.

"Are you sure? I've known Harry since we were eleven and... Yes, while I agree her... Features are a bit more than exotic, assumedly from mixed breeding on her father's magical side, to say something so... To come to such a conclusion... I mean... She's just like me!"

The smooth, white-washed opaque walls of the cryo-pod she was stashed in were bathed in a soft, neon blue light that flickered in split second intervals, fractions, a wave, like a tide lapping at the rocky shore. Something heavy, chunky in a way... Bound in clothe... Her bag lay crammed at her feet, pinning her to the bottom of the pod. However, despite the warm light, periwinkle like Dumbledore's eyes, Harry could only feel like this pod... cage, was nothing more than the jagged planks to her coffin, the pulsing light echoing the beat of a fading heart or the nails being hammered home. For that one moment when she was trapped between sleep and awareness, she had been sure she was dead... Again. Then her mind returned to her, not fully, but enough for Harry to gain her bearings, or at least, a footing in the world she now resided in. Three indisputable facts bubbled to the forefront of her mind.

"Look, Harry... These test's don't lie. I know, I've read them and re-read them and re-read them. If I thought they were trying to pull something over you, or if I thought it would stop those... Things from coming for you, you know I would be the first to act and stand by your side. But you can't argue with fact Harry. Hard, scientific truth. I've seen the results myself and you have to admit... They do explain your ea-"

"Shut up Hermione."

One; By now, she would be inevitable cruising through space. Actual, Merlin-given space. That was something to acclimatize herself to. Everyone she had known, had cared about, had loved, would be long dead. Nothing but mulch for the plant-life and broken bits of rotten bone... Perhaps reduced to nothing but a genetic code passed down from a descendant or two, but nothing more. And yet... Yet, she had only seen them yesterday, had seen their smiles, heard their laughter, seen life in all its magnificent sparkle in their eyes.

"Run Harry... Run and don't look back. Not for me. Not for Ron, not even for yourself. Run!"

Then again, the ones she had cared about, the ones she would truly miss and remember to her dying day were the very same who had urged her to run, to hide, to escape and never look back. After all, it had been Hermione herself that had come up with this seemingly impossible plan to begin with, with a little help from someone she simply called Q. Extreme, unfathomable, improbable, against all logic... A plan that had no alternatives.

"If you don't go, Merlin knows what they'll do to you! Forget about us for one moment Harry and for once, think of your own life! You have to go... I don't want you to... I'll miss you... But you have to. You. Have. To."

Two; Time travel of this magnitude left her mind pounding, frontal lobe tense and straining, tongue nothing but a heavy lump of flesh in her cotton coated mouth and her stomach swirling faster than a Boggart mid-transformation. Unfortunately for Harry, she knew, even in the state she was in, this awareness would not last for long and soon she would be pulled back under, only to awaken to likely worse feelings of upsetness and disturbance as well as having a hefty job to dive straight into... If you could call running and hiding from your abductors, hunters, a job.

"Are you sure we can trust this... Man... What was it you called him Hermione? Q? I mean... He doesn't even have a last name and by the sound of it, he just pops in and out when he wants to..."

"I trust him, Harry, I trust him as much as I can but... But what other alternatives do you have? The safe houses don't work anymore. They'll track you eventually and the ministry... No, wizarding Britain has done all it can against them and we've all come up short... So very short against these... Things. He's offering an out and I think... I don't think you or we have a choice."

Three; If by some miracle the newly minted and equally fake identity file Hermione had programmed into a chip of... Glass, it looked like glass, an object this mysterious Q had given her, worked, if Harry did not die in this coffin masquerading as a cryo-bed, if she managed to integrate and hide in this foreign place and even more alien time, she would then need to keep hidden long enough to find who she had been sent to find and hope no others came chasing after her. Who was she kidding? They would come. They always came... But if she managed all that and if this Q was to be believed, which Hermione promised he should be, she might... Just might once again pull through this with her heartbeat intact and perhaps, hopefully, please let it not be a lie and be true, she may meet the family she had been denied, she could... Perhaps... Create a home. A real home with real family.

"Damn Hermione, are you sure that's a time turner? It looks more like a bloody nuclear bomb!"

"I swear I should have never shown you that documentary... Of course I'm sure Ron, would I give it to Harry to use if I didn't think it was safe? Granted... I don't know half the things on here, or what they do and I don't know why it glows blue but Q guaranteed to me it would work and I-"

"It's okay Hermione. Honestly. After all, what choice do I have? They nearly caught me last time... Sometimes I wish Voldemort had finished the job while he could have."

"Don't say that Harry!"

"Well, if he had, none of this would have come to light and we... I... Things could have been normal."

Nevertheless, there were too many perhaps, maybes and variables for Harry to feel confident let alone comfortable with this plan of absurd action, and in so, for that particular outcome to be nothing but the remnants of a childish dream. A childish dream that Harry, stuck in this box, away from all she had ever known, stranded, never to return, forced to try the impossible, clung to in a desperation that rivaled any last stand.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't little miss fairy. Or is it a goblin? Troll perhaps? I wouldn't be surprised. The Potters are known to sleep with anything that walks on two legs... Then again, four too if you take into account the rumors of your father and that blood traitor Sirius Bla-"

"Sod off Malfoy before I permanantly shut you up. Then we'll see who the bloody fairy is."

She was sure she hadn't meant to have awoken yet, at least, that is what the shady, oddly ridged faced behemoth of a man... She thought he was a man, had told her on what appeared to be a docking bay of somekind, the place she had landed from that bloody time turner. But then again, that is likely what she deserves for going through improper channels and dealing with less than above board traders and transporters... She hoped he was a transporter otherwise she was in for a poor start to her journey. That being said, when you were about to undertake what she was, being found out too soon because one could not deal without one's creature comforts was a folly she wasn't willing to take, especially when so much laid on the line.

"Aunt Petunia... Why are my ears-"

"Be quite Harry! And damn it girl, put the hat back on before anyone sees or you'll be spending the rest of the afternoon in your... Room."

Still, the drugs and means of stasis these people used for prolonged sleep felt equal to the mass extended time travel that shouldn't have been possible to her nervous system and brain. In short, Harry felt more jumbled than if Peeve's were to cling onto her head and rattle it around like a cocktail maker for an hour straight. Merlin, she was going to vomit.

"Freak! Freak! Freak! Look mummy! The freak even bleeds green! Arrrrgh, get off me you gremlin! Mum, help! It's attacking me!"

"Get off him!"

Dizzy, Harry's hand came up to the side of her small enclosure. Nimble, pale, long fingers sliding against the side panel of the cryo-pod. Smooth, frigid to the touch with slight wear to the farthest right corner, the rusted metal peeping through the pleasant gloss covering from over-use and wear. Idly, she deftly ran her fingers across the surface. The gloss, while partly known, still felt different, slightly jellied. Unique. Strange. Alien... Just like her.

"It's not fairy blood, is it? Troll? Goblin? Dammit, Hermione, I would take inferi right now."

"No... No, the healers... They haven't seen it before. They think it's perhaps how you survived the killing curse... Twice. They want to run more tests Harry but... But there's been another attack. It was... Them again. They're looking for you. The orders planning to move you to a more secure location tomorrow afternoon and then hopefully the healers can get down to real work and figure all this out."

She had always been a tactile person. No one would dispute that, even herself. As a child she would spend hours planting aunt Petunia's flower beds, letting the summer sun soak in as much as she could, cold even as it heavily beat down upon her at noon. However, that was not an oddity for her, she was always cold, always. She took long not because the task was arduous, or presumably to perfect the flower beds, but because it gave her the fleeting chance to get to do what she often couldn't. Simply... Feel.

"Get off me... No more... No more... I'll kill you... I'll fucking kill you..."

"Bloody hell. It's me, Harry, it's Ron and Hermione. We're getting you out of here, they won't get you again."

Her fingertips would brush the melancholy pansy petals, forefinger running up and down the stubborn stems, pinching the cheeky leaves, fingers buried up to her knuckles so she could feel the newly tilled teasing, damp, cloying dirt as she wiggled the appendages. Touch was an important sense to her, one she hoarded, guarded almost rabidly, but used with an excited abandonment that seemed almost improper to the clueless observer.

"I... I had a visitor yesterday Harry. He just... Apparated in. He didn't say much, just joked really, but he seems willing to help and oddly he knows far more about your... Case than is possible for an outsider. He... He was dressed as if ready for a Tudor court. He said he's names Q."

Hogwarts had only offered more to touch, to feel, to absorb and ponder in awe. Some good, most bad. Strangely enough, Hermione's hair had been one of her favorites to fumble with, to twist the curls around and tug, feel the silk slide, to feel each strand separated when she rubbed and stroked a lock until, of course, Hermione would bat her hand away with an exasperated smile of indulgence. The feeling she got, the warmth that blossomed in her chest, danced on the nerves of her mind like a flutter of a paper wing, would never be forgotten. Comfort, easy happiness, peace, that of which Harry imagined a child or infant would feel when their mother or father would brush away their hair as they tumbled off to sleep, safely wrapped in the conclave of their loving arms. She had tried it with Ron once, but the feeling had not been the same, all she had felt was annoyance, a prickling sting behind her eyes like nips from ants. She hadn't tried again and now it was too late. They were gone... They were gone.

"We'll be fine Harry. it's you they want, it's you that needs to run, we... We'll be fine. Now, come on, Q gave me this map, you should see it Harry, I recognize none of the stars and-"

"Hermione? Don't... Don't ever change."

"I won't Harry. I won't if you won't."

"Oi, what about me?"

"Perhaps you could learn to chew with your mouth closed Ron."

"Cheers mate. Really."

Even if she lived, if she hid, if she ran through time and space far enough, she would still lose in the end. She would never see their faces. Never plant another pansy. Never play with a caramel lock again. Never poke Ron's freckles. It was supposed to be over. The running. She was supposed to fight Voldemort and if she won, she was supposed to live a happy, normal life with her friends. Now she was three-hundred years and a few galaxies away. And what for? How did she get where she was? Was it a time she could pinpoint or was it before her memory kicked into gear? How did she end up back when she did, with the Potters... Well, that was the answers she wasn't sure she wanted to know. However, for her own survival, find the truth she had to, whether she was ready for it or not.

"Are you bloody saying I'm an alien?!"

"No Harry... Not quite. No! What I'm saying is your blood, what we originally thought was fairy dormant genes becoming dominant is... In fact, foreign to us. Foreign to earth..."

"That sounds dangerously like 'you're an alien Harry'."

"Was the Hagrid impersonation really necessary?"

Harry's hand slipped from the side panel. What she wouldn't do for a window right now. For, while she was perhaps too textile or 'touchy-feely' as Ron would call it for society norms, she was equally observant, and seen as she wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, her curiosity was piqued and she needed something, anything to focus on to combat her warring mind, lost between the crushing present and broken past. She wondered who else was onboard this vessel. The rigid, bulky man was the first and only alien she had seen so far, were there more? Of course there were, if not, she wouldn't be in the predicament she was in now.

"I just... I just need some time. It's... It's a lot to take in. I don't... I think... No... Time. I need time."

"Take all the time you want dear, you know where we are if you need us."

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley... Thank you."

Still, she wished, by Merlin did she wish she had a window, if nothing but to look out into space. Real space. No telescope, no machine, no pixelated printout image. Real, undiluted space, right there, almost in touching distance. Would there be planets? Giants like Jupiter with speckled and marble-esque faces? Would there be stars? Red giants that lay in the wake of their oncoming death? Or white newborns, hot and temperamental, pulsating with the gift of life?... Or would it be baron, a void of darkness with a few traveling, frosty asteroids as their only guiding compass?

"You watching the stars again?"

"It's called stargazing Ron, a common past time for muggles. I've done it since I could remember. Do you... Do you ever wonder what it would be like to touch a star?"

"Get a nasty burn I'd reckon. Now come on, my mom will have a fit if we're not asleep soon and end up late to our third year."

"I don't require as much sleep as-"

"Yeah, yeah, you don't need as much sleep as me. You should thank whatever creature gave you those bloody eyebrows. I'm knackered after that game of quidditch. Slytherin is going to crash and burn this year if you play like that again."

What she wouldn't have given to touch a star, even now, so close, closer than many have or would ever be to one, the victory felt bitter on her tongue, acidic, like a crushed cyanide pill. To be so close... And she only had to give up all she had known, her friends, her world. She wondered if they had lived happy lives. Was there red-heads out there with Hermione's eyes and Ron's freckles or Ron's eyes and Hermione's button nose? Oddly, she tried to picture her two friends old, withered, gray, but with wrinkles in all the right places, around the mouth, shouting out to the world the happy, smile filled lives they lived as a brood of boisterous, obnoxiously smart children and grandchildren swarmed them. Something hot and wet trickled down her cheek, tickling her top lip. She was crying... Why was she crying? She didn't know, as soon as the thoughts came, they went just as fast and Harry couldn't keep up. In this foggy place, lost, she could only... Feel.

"Think Harry... What have you always wanted? A family! This is your chance. If Q's right, if you really were taken by... Those things, then that means they're likely still out there! Not only that but if we get you back, if Q pulls through and gives us this device, not only do you have to stop hiding, you can find a... Find your family! Isn't this what you wanted?"

"But... But you're my family. I... I don't want to loose you."

"Oh, Harry. You'll never loose us. You'll just... You'll just gain more. We'll always be with you, in your heart and mind. All you have to do is remember and we'll be there."

"I'll miss you Mr. Weasley."

Something close but outside her pod whined, like an industrial fan turning on and Harry realized her brain was slowing down, chugging, winding, concentration, the little she had, lagging. Hopes, dreams, thoughts, they were all painted in the same rosy tint, concealing which was which. It all felt too real, felt like it was all happening now, she was everywhere at once and yet nowhere, locked in her body. It hurt too much, dulling none of the aches these torments created, like salt into a weeping wound. Scarring.

Positive.

She had to stay positive. It's the one good thing she knew how to do. If Hermione was right, if the tests they had run on her were correct and not some horrendously poor joke, if this Q was to be believed... Dammit, if her own appearance was to be taken into account, then, if she got to her destination and the calculations of the time turner had been correct, they were, she had double and triple checked, she would be less alone than she had been her entire life. She... Wasn't... Alone. Family. Hope. Those repressed dreams and wishes... They were possible. She just had to believe, had to keep pushing on. There was no other option.

"My mom says you're a changeling left by the fairies and changelings are bad. Which makes my mom and dad even better people for taking you in when they did. So, you should give me that seashell and do as I say!"

"Go away Dudley, it's mine, I found it! You told me the other day finders keepers... So by your own logic, it's mine!"

If only her uncle Vernon knew right now... Back then? Whenever, how right he was when he called her a misbegotten goblin that should go back to where it came from. Perhaps, for once, he would be proud of her for doing what he said with minimal complaint.

"Get out of my sight girl. Petunia, dear, put it back where it belongs! I have guests coming around. Who knows what they'll think if they see it lurking around!"

"I'm not an it or a goblin! My names Harry!"

The fan noise thumped even louder. Lost as she was in her own drugged mind, fractured, sleepy, Harry began to fade from consciousness once more. The weight of her thoughts, her hopes, the last year of her life since Voldemort's downfall, pushed her down harder, swirling, like water down a drainpipe. Her last slightly coherent thought was that of Hermione's smiling face, presenting to her a map Q had given her, excitedly pointing to what just looked like a splodge of white against the blue, black and purple space, Hermione's voice reverberating around her skull as her face drooped. Blindly, her hand came up to her ears, fiddling with the tip as sleep began to invade her, conquering.

Harry's mouth numbly repeated the word, the sharp consonants bouncing off the interior of the cryo-bed, echoing, haunting, teasing her, staying in the air like a perfume cloud even as her eyes began to shut and her hand fell from her ears. Would this be enough? It had to be... It had to be. She'd been fixing others mistakes for far too long.

The ship tugged along, to the very world Harry had been sleepily muttering. She may not know where she was going, where her life was heading, but then again, how could one when they did not even know where they had begun? Home. She was going home. Back to the beginning.

"Vu-... Vul-... Vulcan."

"Look Harry! That's where Q says your DNA comes from... Where you come from! To us, it's M-23345, but he has a name! He says it's called Vulcan... Like the Roman god, Vulcan the god of volcanoes, it fits with your temperament. Isn't this brilliant?"

NEXT CHAPTER:

"I wasn't expecting you to be here today son."

Amanda watched the slight elevation of her son's left eyebrow. A tick he had since early childhood. She knew all of them by heart, she had to when these little twitches and micro-expressions were the only window into the window of his mind, her only view into his thoughts. Yet, she would never change that, nor him, even for the brightest of earth children's smiles. Her son was just as emotive as any other, Vulcan's as a whole were she had found, you just had to look deeper. God knows Sarek, her husband, could be a drama queen when he wanted to be. You just had to read between the lines.

"To believe I would not arrive here today and be present would be illogical if you take into account my previous visitations on this particu-"

Amanda cut her son off with a soft palm on his broad shoulder. He didn't shake her off, nor did he embrace her. Oh, how he had grown. Each time he came back from the Academy, he was taller, broader... Older. Would she have been tall? Or would she have taken after- No. Those thoughts only lead to pain. Today was not for pain. Today was for reflection. Hope. Remembrance of what was important. Her fingers curled and clenched on her son's shoulder.

"I know Spock. I know. You'll have to forgive me... My mind often wonders around this date and my words fail me. I only mean to say it is good to see you son."

Good to see him when I am denied seeing her again... That... That was left unsaid, falling between the cracks and lines of her words, hidden, forgotten. She should move, should usher her son in, should begin mid-noon lunch and steam the tea. Sarek would be home soon, back from his visit to the place she would no longer go, no longer think of, a pilgrimage he would do each year, on this very day, with the strength she could not gather herself.

She knows she should go, she should face that dark memory, each year she promises, and yet when the sun rises, she fails... Once more she fails like that night many years ago. How many years now? Seventeen. A lump formed in her throat at the revelation. Seventeen years. Gone. Smashed. Destroyed. She should move but she can't. There was so much she should do, should say, should act, and yet it all fell in those damned cracks. Lost. Missed. Spock's hand came up to hers, palm stalling hair-breadth away from hers before it slipped on, his long fingers curling around her frail hand but not to move it, but to simply squeeze and hold it there. Such an act of affection, one so blatant, was not often bestowed upon her by her son and the sight, the feel, warmed her more deeply than the Vulcan sun ever could. Her vision blurred as Spock ushered her into the house, quietly closing the door behind him.

Her words and actions may fall short, may disappear in the back of her throat, may vanish in those horrid cracks, but her sons? Spock's was loud and clear, and so was her husband's actions, his pre-dawn trip each year on this day, all saying what she, the emotional human, never could bring to pass her lips. To know they felt the same, even when she couldn't speak of it, speak of that day, was all the comfort she needed. Yes, it was loud and clear.

We miss her too.

It was all between the lines.

A.N: So... Good, bad? Crystal meth in written form? Trust me, I don't know either! This idea just hit me and I wanted to explore it. XD Yes, I know the first chapter is a bit jumbled, but I wanted it that way, as Harry herself is jumbled and scattered and I wanted that to come through in the writing. Will I continue? I have the next chapter partially written but I'm not sure, as I said, this just came out of nowhere and hit me like a truck. Thoughts on whether I should continue this or jump the sinking ship are more than welcome!

Thank you to everyone who took time out to read... Whatever this is XD if you have a spare moment, leave a review? And I hope you are looking forward to reading this as much as I'm itching to write the rest of it!

To my faithful readers of my other stories! Fear not, I am working on them and new chapters should be posted soon. I know I've been gone a long time, but there was some personal matters, rather upsetting ones I don't want to get into, that came first. I should be back into my groove very soon though!

Until next time~ GoWithTheFlo20