Disclaimer: For the whole story, I don't own anything about this story except possibly my own words. I'm not making any profit off of this and never will.

Chapter One- Breaking

Fourteen-year-old Hermione Granger yet again was faced with returning to daily life pretending that nothing fantastic and world-shattering had taken place. She and Harry had just gone back in time to save a condemned beast and a convicted mass murderer, both of whom were innocent, though society maintained otherwise. This was a bit much for thirteen- and fourteen-year-olds to handle, and it was not even their first nearly deadly adventure.

Now that classes were over, she had decided that she would turn in her time turner for good. Though time travel had been used for a very good cause here, it didn't seem right to risk some sort of paradox over taking a few extra classes. Physically this had taken a toll on her as well. She almost always only used the time turner to take the extra classes, just a few hours each week, because she really didn't want to age significantly faster than her peers by taking extra time to study or sleep on a regular basis. So, of course, for the near-legendary bookworm, sleeping was not a high priority.

No one but Hermione, Harry, and the remaining living Marauders knew the full story of what happened that night, but by the next morning, the whole school knew that Professor Remus Lupin was a werewolf, and the rumor continued that they would yet again be in need for another Defense against the Dark Arts, though he had been the best that any student she talked to could remember, certainly the best of the last three years.

She went straight to his office after being released from the hospital wing, not sure exactly what she wanted to accomplish but not wanting to see him go. Though Hermione would hardly admit it to herself, she was nursing one of those teenage crushes for her prematurely aging professor, even though she knew he was old enough to be her father. She told herself that she would not let this happen again, after she had been one of the girls madly "in love" with Lockheart last year, and he had turned out to be a complete fraud. Professor Lupin was nothing like that. He was knowledgeable and kind, a person Hermione had respected since he scared away the dementor on the train at the beginning of the year and gave them all chocolate. Hermione felt closer to him as she silently kept the secret that he was a werewolf, not even telling him that she knew.

She knocked on Professor Lupin's slightly open office door and stepped in. His head snapped towards her with a strange look- almost hopeful perhaps, though he quickly regained his composure when she asked, "Professor, can't you try to stay? I'm sure Professor Dumbledore would be behind you. We need you here." Her voice was smaller than she felt.

Lupin sighed, "As I already told Mr. Potter, the parents will not like a werewolf teaching their children, and I can no longer even convince myself that I am not a threat to these students. The last thing I would ever want to do is harm an innocent student or inflict anyone else with this disease." He waited for a few moments and sighed again, "Now I suppose I should finish packing."

"I- We will help any way we can," she stammered

He smiled though he looked unusually sad, "I know, Her- Miss Granger. Thank you. I'm sure you have some end of year chores to finish as well. Enjoy your summer."

"Yes, sir," she said, and then walked out of his office with a look over her shoulder, heading to Professor Dumbledore's office to turn in the time turner that she now grasped in her hand.

Lost in thought, an uneven stone in the floor caught her by surprise, sending her forward head first, throwing her arms out in front to brace her fall, no longer thinking of anything else. Sharp pain bit into her hand as the now broken glass of the small hour-glass sunk into her. She closed her eyes and cried out softly, feeling strange magic flow around her.

She got to her feet not feeling anything else wrong with her, though feeling very guilty about the now very broken time turner. She picked up the broken pieces, pulling one out of her hand swiftly with only a slight whimper. Looking at the contraption one last time, she studied the numerous runes in tiny engravings around the object. Hermione wished not for the first time that she could read the writing. All she could understand was the spell-caster's name and the year it was made, a tiny "1976" marked on the bottom.

Feeling sure that Professor Dumbledore could fix her hand as easily as Madame Pomfrey, and knowing that her new confession would not be any easier later, she continued slowly on to Professor Dumbledore's office. "Sugar Quill," she said, giving the password he had told her a few days ago, though it felt like ages. No movement. He must have changed it early for some reason. She gave a few half-hearted attempts to guess, "Lemon drop? Cockroach cluster? Lollipop?" With the pain in her hand reasserting itself in her mind, she turned and went to the hospital wing instead, hoping she could get the password from Madame Pomfrey after being healed. Hermione did not meet anyone on the way to the hospital wing, a strange occurrence for the early afternoon, but she was glad for it, as she hadn't yet decided how to explain her hand.

Walking into the hospital wing, Hermione in all her intelligence and quick thinking could not explain the scene. Ron was not in the bed that he had been just a few minutes ago, though his injuries should have kept him there over another night. Madame Pomfrey was nowhere to be seen, and there was a younger witch bustling about in the far corner of the wing. Closer to her was a boy that looked familiar but that she couldn't place, half-asleep and sporting numerous fresh cuts across his face and exposed torso and arms. Finally, a detail that many would overlook but was the hardest to explain. The windows let in less light than they should be right now, and the direction of the scarcely visible sun indicated that it was somehow early morning.

"Madame Pomfrey?" she called, trying to process what was going on.

The witch that was far too young to be Madame Pomfrey, though she did look the same, came over almost frowning slightly. "I haven't seen you before around the castle dear, and you do not look like a first year. Your hand doesn't look too bad. Go sit down on a bed while I tend to Mr. Lupin, and I will be right with you."

Hermione stumbled over to a bed, head now reeling, recognizing the young man on the bed and trying to explain the world around her. Her eyes darted around the room, searching for the calendar that Madame Pomfrey always kept up. It was not in its usual corner but she found it easily enough. She took a seat on a bed as she read the first date that had not been marked off, September 6th, 1976.

A/N: I'm writing this as I am on a vacation for a week in a place with no internet. I am nearly going through withdrawal, particularly from Harry Potter fanfiction, so I am getting around to writing some things that have been playing around in my head.