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Chapter Text

Hermione doesn’t see Harry when they get off the Hogwarts Express and make their way to the carriages. Harry had wandered off near the end of the train ride but he hadn’t come back. Ron makes an impatient noise and grabs her hand when he sees her starting to lag behind.

“He must be with Luna or Ginny,” Ron says as he pulls her along to the nearest carriage. “Come on, I’m starving!”

Hermione doubts Harry wouldn’t try to find them once off the train – they always take the carriage together – but students are milling around, eager to get in the carriages and head up to the castle. It’s chaos, and Hermione can’t even see Ginny or Luna or Dean so she lets herself be pulled along.

But now, in the castle, Hermione is standing a few feet away from the entrance to the Great Hall, watching students pile in. Everyone is talking loudly, excitedly. Most have caught up with their friends that they haven’t seen over the summer, and stories overlap each other and echo as they step into the Great Hall.

Hermione had told Ron to go in without her and to save two seats; she’s not about to go in without Harry. There’s no reason for her to panic, she saw Harry on the Express, after all, and nothing has ever happened on the train before… but, no, that’s not quite true, is it? Hermione remembers the Dementors, a few years back, and the bad feeling in her gut grows heavier. It would take some pretty serious Dark magic to get Harry out of a moving train undetected, but it’s not like they’re unaccustomed to Dark magic, and now, with the Voldemort revived…

Hermione mentally slaps herself and tells herself to stop thinking of the worst. Harry probably just got sidetracked talking with Ginny or somebody, and by the time he realized the ride was ending he figured it would be better to just go up to the school with them rather than risk losing his way in the crowd and making the carriage trip up to the school alone. It’s not the shortest of rides, and riding with a stranger is awkward at the best of times. If that stranger happened to recognize Harry, and by now few wouldn’t, the ride would be torturous for him. Hermione smiles and almost chuckles at Harry’s hypothetical fate when she spots a head of red in the crowd and beside her a girl with long, flowing blonde hair.

“Ginny! Luna!” Hermione fights her way through the students. The two girls stop when they hear their names and others bump into them. Grumbling, the two of them make their way around to her. Hermione pulls them to the side of the hallway before they start a mob. It’s dangerous to get between a Hogwarts student and the impending feast.

“Where’s Harry?” Hermione asks.

Ginny shrugs. “I haven’t seen him since the beginning of the ride.”

“We thought he must be with you and Ronald,” Luna adds.

The clump of dread grows bigger and Hermione can start to feel herself panicking. She keeps an eye on the students entering the Great Hall, but still no Harry. “He wandered off at some point and he never came back. I thought he was with you, but now…”

“What do you mean wandered off?” Ginny asks, suddenly concerned.

Hermione shrugs. “I thought he’d gone off to the loo or something, and when he didn’t come back I figured he must have bumped into you guys.”

The last of the students walk into the Great Hall and then it’s just the three of them in the hallway. No Harry. Surely, even if she’d missed him going in, he would have spotted her and left the crowd to come get her.

“Do you want us to wait with you?” Ginny asks.

Hermione shakes her head. “No sense in all three of us missing the feast. You guys go in and I’ll wait out here until he shows up.”

Ginny squeezes Hermione’s arm and gives her a small smile. “It’s Harry,” she says. “I’m sure he’ll show up all ruffled up and out of breath, but fine.”

Hermione nods. “Yes, possibly. But I’d rather wait here all the same.” She watches them as they head into the Great Hall. Hermione wishes she hadn’t had to concern them. She knows that Ginny especially will worry until she sees Harry enter the Great Hall. And no doubt Ginny is right, too, that Harry will show up fine. But the discomfort that’s been nagging her since they got off the train has only grown in gravity. If there’s one thing Hermione has learned in all her years as Harry’s friend, it’s been to trust her instincts.

With no one in the entrance, Hermione reaches a hand through the collar of her robe and pulls out her necklace. A large ring is attached to a gold chain. Within that golden ring is another, smaller ring, and inside of that, a small hourglass.

Hermione makes a fist around the time-turner. She looks at the clock above the Great Hall. The doors are still open and the sounds coming from within are nearly ear-shattering. It’s a curious thing, Hermione thinks, how she never realized just how loud they are when she was amongst them, joking and laughing with Ron and Harry and the rest of the House. She suspects that even someone standing on the Quidditch pitch would hear the ruckus coming from the castle. Possibly, they’d only hear a low rumbling, like a beast about to awaken. It would an impressive thing to hear.

The clock above the Great Hall was charmed and added by Dumbledore after Umbridge’s departure from the school. A small act of rebellion, the way Dumbledore does everything. Hermione watches as the thinnest needle counts off the seconds: the testimony that small acts accumulate into great ones, Hermione thinks, smiling fondly at the thought of their Headmaster. The sorting would begin any moment now, and then Dumbledore would be giving his speech.

Still no Harry.

Dumbledore had given her the time-turner back at the end of her third year. No one knew, not even Ron or Harry. Dumbledore had sworn her to the strictest secrecy. “Only to use in the gravest of situations,” he had told her. Since then, Hermione had kept the timepiece on her person at all times. Even during the summer, she’d kept it on her. With Harry as a best friend, Hermione really couldn’t know when the ‘gravest of situations’ would arise.

Hermione unclenches her fist and stares down at the device. It really is a beautiful piece of work, she muses. If only it was an accessory and not a very powerful magical artifact Hermione would gladly wear it. As it is, it only brings her added stress. She’s always conscious of it around her neck, always terrified she’ll snag the chain on something, or break it without ever noticing and only realize later when it’s too late to retrace her steps.

Hermione glances back at the clock. Only two minutes have gone by. Surely this is what Dumbledore meant. Harry could have inadvertently touched a Portkey or something, and could even now be facing peril or death. If that isn’t the gravest of situations, Hermione doesn’t know what is.

Mind made up, she slips the time-turner around her neck again. This time, instead of putting it back under her collar, she grasps the largest ring on either sides with her thumb and index finger. She only needs to go back two hours, since it was around that time that Harry left their compartment. Hermione hadn’t been paying attention at the time, but if she goes back to just before Harry gets up to leave, she can follow him from a safe distance. It’s a dangerous gamble to be making; she’ll have to avoid being spotted by any of her close friends and Harry. Thankfully, she and Ron hadn’t left the compartment, so the only danger on that front would be making it past their compartment without Ron or herself noticing.

Hermione watches the clock. If the big hand makes it to the five before Harry shows up, she’s doing it. It’s the three longest minutes of her life, and Hermione’s had some pretty darn long minutes. Still, the entrance doors to the school are not swung open, and so when the big hand strikes five Hermione turns the time-turner twice.

Using the time-turner is similar to waking up, when you know that at one point your conscious mind finally drifted off but you can’t pinpoint the exact moment it happened, and all you know is that now you’re awake again. Except with time-turner, you know that you didn’t fall asleep, but that your whole body was propelled into the past. And you don’t wake up feeling tired but in the same condition as when you turned the hourglass. In Hermione’s case: hungry and on edge.

She recognizes the train as soon as she can take in her surroundings. She’s in a compartment on her own, sitting on the plush cushions. The time-turner is resting in her open palm. Without looking at it, Hermione puts it back under the collar of her robe and stands. She feels too exposed in the compartment. Anyone could see her through the window, and if anyone has just seen her sitting in another compartment then Hermione’s blown her cover before her work has even started. Thankfully, she doesn’t recognize the few students who pass by her compartment.

The train will arrive at Hogwarts in a couple of hours, and outside the sun has already set and everyone is busy changing into their robes, so thankfully there aren’t too many students walking idly about the train. Most visiting is done the first few hours after the train has left the platform and after that things usually quiet down.

Hermione opens the door and looks out into the hallway. The coast is clear. She steps out just as a compartment door opens and a boy with black hair that sticks up in the back walks out. Hermione’s heart jumps into her throat and she quickly retreats back into her own compartment. That was Harry, of course it was. Hermione would recognize him anywhere. She takes a few deep breaths to calm her nerves. She remembers Harry turning right when he left them, so luckily she’s not at risk of him walking by. She sticks her head out into the hallway to see Harry’s back making its way down the corridor. She needs to go after him before she loses sight of him.

It’s now or never. Hermione tries to walk down the hall casually, like she has a purpose, but when she nears her compartment, she slows. Ahead, Harry takes the door that leads into the next car. Where is he going? Now that she thinks about it, the closest loo to them is back the way she came from.

Hermione passes her compartment like ripping off of a Band-Aid. She closes her eyes, crouches below the window and dashes past the door. It’s not the most subtle approach, but no one shouts or comes running after her, so Hermione straightens out again and quickens her step to catch up with Harry.

When she reaches the next car, she sees Harry open a compartment door and disappear inside. The door shuts behind him. Hermione frowns. The only people she can think of that Harry would visit with are Ginny and Luna, but they said that they hadn’t seen him. Suddenly, Hermione feels very irritated – it’s like something scratches at her nerves and all she wants to do is give it a good kick in the ribs. How dare Harry take off like that to make a social call with someone he’s not even close friends with, leaving Hermione feeling flustered and worried to the point of breaking the law to come and find him!

Hermione is ready to give Harry a piece of her mind. Forgetting that she’s in the past and mustn’t draw attention to herself, Hermione stomps forward to the compartment Harry entered. She slides open the door with too much force, causing it to slam loudly against the wall.

There are three other boys in the compartment with Harry, but other than noticing their presence, Hermione doesn’t spare them much attention. She only has eyes for Harry and she doesn’t spare a second before letting him have it.

“There you are, Harry, I’ve been looking everywh-” The letters die in Hermione’s throat as the boy’s appearance in front of her finally makes its way to her brain. This isn’t Harry. The resemblance is striking, the same hair, the same glasses, but it’s not Harry. His resemblance to Harry is like someone’s appearance when the effect of Polyjuice begins to wear off. Details of their real appearance begin to shine through, mixed in with the appearance of the person they’re disguised as. It’s not until Hermione looks at the boy’s eyes – brown, not green – that the reality of her situation slaps her in the face.

That’s when her eyes snap around to look at his companions. One is small and chubby, with a dumbstruck look on his face. His mouth is hanging open and he’s not particularly handsome. It’s not until she looks more closely at the other two boys – one has brown hair, the other black – that she realizes she knows who they are: Remus and Sirius. They’re younger, more handsome, but they’re definitely themselves.

And that’s when Hermione fears her heart stops and she’s going to have a heart attack. She opens her mouth but only a few gurgling noises come out. Remus looks at her with a calm but confused look and Sirius just looks annoyed. A good minute must have gone by and no one has said a word. All four boys are staring at her expectantly.

Finally, James – because that’s who this must be, who he is – speaks up. “Are you looking for someone?”

The silence is shattered and Hermione panics. She turns and runs out of the compartment. She runs until she reaches the loo and then she slams the door behind her and locks it. She collapses on the toilet seat and covers her mouth with her hands.

What the hell is going on? Hermione wills her brain to calm down and think. James left Hogwarts in 1978. Hermione knows this of course because he joined the Order of the Phoenix the same year. She meant to go back in time two hours, yet somehow she’s gone back in time about twenty years.

Her hands are shaking as she takes out the time-turner. It doesn’t look broken at first glance until Hermione takes a closer look at the hourglass. There’s sand in both the top and the bottom and it doesn’t appear to be flowing. Without thinking of the consequences, Hermione tries to turn it, but it won’t budge, as though the two rings have been welded together.

The time-turner sent her back in the past at least eighteen years instead of two hours and now, the device is broken.

The dread Hermione has been carrying around in her all evening multiplies tenfold and consumes her totally. She can’t bring herself to think of a plan or to rationalize the situation. There’s only one thing going through her mind, a single thought stuck permanently and overriding every other. What in the world is she going to do now?

Chapter Text

Hermione stays locked up the bathroom. Her panic turns into a stupor and it’s not until a loud knock on the door snaps her out of it that Hermione wonders how long she’s been in the toilets for.

“Hey, did you fall in, in there, or what? I really gotta go!”

Hermione quickly washes her hands and unlocks the door. The student gives her a strange look when she passes by. She supposes she would have to, if she’d been waiting for the loo for over fifteen minutes.

The compartment Hermione originally arrived in is still vacant and she slumps down on the bench. She feels calmer than before, though. As long as she doesn’t think about what happened, she can remain composed. As soon as she is, though, James’ face pops up in her memory. And Remus’. And Sirius’, still alive! Hermione wants to run back to their car and tell them, warn them, hex Peter and avoid the whole situation entirely. She brings her hands up to her face. If only she could. Not only would no one remember, but she can’t interfere with the past. That was the number 1 rule of time travel. Professor McGonagall had stressed this point emphatically when she’d recommended Hermione as a valid candidate for the device. “This means no going back to redo an essay you scored less than perfectly on,” she’d said at the time, because that had been Hermione’s biggest weakness and concern: her grades.

Saving Sirius the first time, so many years ago, had been one thing. It was the immediate past and their future hadn’t happened yet to meddle with. But now if she saved James and Lily who knows what other ghastly consequences she could indirectly cause. What if her meddling now prevents James and Lily from getting together? Then Harry might not be born and the prophecy will never be actualized and Voldemort won’t die and he’ll take over the Wizarding world and mass murder all the Muggles…

Hermione tries to push that line of thinking of out her mind, but it’s easier said than done. As she focuses on the darkening sky outside her window, she sees Voldemort reigning in chaos. No, she absolutely can’t meddle. Even simply talking to Remus and Sirius could have serious repercussions. Her best bet is to make herself small, stay out of sight, not draw attention to herself and find a way back to her time as quickly as possible.

When the train stops at the Hogsmeade station, Hermione waits until everyone’s gotten off before following. There are hundreds of students, but somehow she still manages to spot the group of boys amongst them. Remus and Sirius are ahead looking for a vacant carriage, but James is hanging back with Peter. From faraway, he looks so much like Harry. The same unruly hair, and when he turns his head and Hermione sees his profile, she almost thinks she hallucinated the first time and that it is Harry, that he played a really bad joke on her and that she’ll give him hell for it but that everything will be alright.

Then Sirius turns around and yells, “Prongs, Wormtail, we found one. Hop on it.”

Hermione watches as James looks around him. She wonders who he’s looking for until she follows the direction of his eyesight and spots a tall, redheaded girl. Her hair is a darker red than the Weasley orange she’s used to, but there’s no mistaking who it is. Hermione is almost fascinated by her, her long hair, the way she walks with such confidence in her step. She doesn’t look around her when she walks, so she doesn’t see James looking, but she holds her head high and stares at her destination instead of her feet. She has a few friends around her and one of them says something and she laughs. There’s an aura around her, Hermione realizes right away, even so far away from her. No wonder James was smitten by her. No, not was, Hermione thinks as she looks back at James. Is.

The thought scares her and she turns away quickly. In her haste, she gets in the first carriage she sees. A group of friends has already claimed the carriage and they fall silent when Hermione gets in. It’s not like sharing a carriage with people you don’t know is forbidden, it’s just commonly accepted that most prefer to ride up to the castle with their friends and there are more than enough carriages to go around.

By the time Hermione realizes she’s gotten in an already-occupied carriage, it’s too late and the Thestral-drawn carriage begins to move. The ride up to the castle has never been longer for Hermione. She has no plan for when she arrives. Can she really just walk into the Great Hall, sit down and pretend like she’s a Gryffindor? Even if she gets away with it for the beginning feast, the teachers will notice her right away and wonder who she is and why she didn’t report to Dumbledore’s office. This is like a nightmare, she thinks, like the ones she used to have in her first year when nobody liked her and she’d dream that she showed up to class one day and no one recognized her and she was informed that she wasn’t a Witch after all and returned to the Muggle world.

Professor McGonagall is standing outside the entrance doors when the carriage finally slows to a stop. Professor McGonagall is Hermione’s favorite teacher. She’s strict, but fair, values hard work and ambition, and has revealed on more than one occasion her kind nature and a vivid imagination through dry humor and unparalleled wit. Because of their past, Hermione has grown to notice the nuanced expressions in her professor’s face, how her face looks softer and her lips are more relaxed, sometimes even tilting upwards in the facsimile of a smile, when she sees them. She’s forgotten what an intimidating and scary person Professor McGonagall can be.

She’s reminded just then, however, what an intimidating and scary person Professor McGonagall can be when she walks up to the carriage Hermione is in. She looks at Hermione without a shred of recognition.

“Follow me, please,” she says, her tone cold and the words short and clipped. Hermione swallows hard and dread hardens in her stomach. There goes her plan to sneak in undetected.

Professor McGonagall takes Hermione to Dumbledore’s office. When they approach the gargoyle statue Professor McGonagall says “Choco-loco” and the statue pivots, revealing a stairway. Hermione has never been in Dumbledore’s office and that this novelty should happen when neither he nor Professor McGonagall know her is nerve-wracking.

At the top of the stairs is a big oaken door that Professor McGonagall pulls open and then ushers Hermione through. Dumbledore is sitting at his desk, a quill in his hand that he puts down when he hears them entering and looks up.

“Ah, our mysterious arrival,” he says when Hermione walks in. She can tell that he doesn’t recognize her either. It shouldn’t be a surprise after everything she’s seen, but somehow a part of Hermione believed that her present-day Dumbledore’s memories would have travelled back in time with her as well and influenced this Dumbledore. It’s ridiculous now that the thought actually materializes itself in her conscious mind, but she really believed Dumbledore would know her. He knows everything. “Please, sit.” He gestures to a chair that had not been there when Hermione walked in.

She hesitates, then sits. Professor McGonagall is standing by the desk, peering down at Hermione like she’s accusing her of some wrongdoing. Well, trying to walk into Hogwarts twenty years early is somewhat of a wrongdoing, Hermione muses. Still, she’s not used to being looked at like this by teachers, or at least not by Professor McGonagall.

“With the war looming closer, we’ve set up a system of identifying intruders. You are not a registered student at this school,” Dumbledore says. Coming from anyone else, it would have been an accusation, a demand to justify one’s self. Coming from Dumbledore, it sounds more like a question, like he’s curious to know who Hermione is. This calms her, strangely, and a desperate plan forms in Hermione’s mind. She doesn’t think it over, just blurts it out before the holes in her logic can manifest themselves.

“Has that not been taken care of?” she asks, trying her best to look confused. She’s never been a good actress. Hopefully, she can be a better liar. “My name is Gabrielle Granger. I’m a transfer student from l’Académie de magie de Beauxbâtons.” She figures saying it in French will give her more credibility. She thinks she notices Professor McGonagall’s features relax a bit, the equivalent for her of a slack jaw. Dumbledore peers at her over the top of his spectacles. “I have the acceptance letter in my trunk, if we could just go and get it,” Hermione begins to say, suddenly confident by the truth of her words.

“The trunks have already been distributed to their respective dorms,” Professor McGonagall informs her coolly. “No excess baggage was reported.”

Hermione gapes at her. The trunks have already been distributed? Her hopes sink. Of course, she may have been brought back to where she should have been in the past if she had existed, but her luggage didn’t suffer the same fate. She swallows thickly and turns to Dumbledore. She has no choice but to keep up with her masquerade. She doesn’t want to even think about what will happen to her if she’s denied access into Hogwarts.

“Please,” she can hear the desperation in her voice, but it’s no match for what she’s actually feeling. “With Vo- You-Know-Who rising in power my parents wanted to transfer me here, where I’d be safer. My mum’s French but dad’s English, which is why I thought you’d approved the transfer request. But now that you say I’m not actually registered, what am I to do? I’ve already been unregistered from Beauxbatons Academy.” The tears aren’t hard to summon up. It’s not that Hermione particularly wants to play the damsel in distress, but it’s that she actually can’t prevent the tears from coming. The situation is so ludicrous – she should be in the Great Hall celebrating the start of the new school year with Harry and Ron, all of them safe and sound until further notice, but instead she’s here, lying through her teeth and desperately trying not to get kicked out of Hogwarts because if she does then where will she find a collection of books as extensive as here to research a way to return home?

She manages to stop the tears quickly, focusing on closing off her throat and grinding her teeth together. She wipes her cheeks off furiously and accidentally stabs herself in the eye in the process. She feels embarrassed at having lost control like this. She can’t bring herself to look at either Dumbledore or Professor McGonagall, who are both still silent.

Finally, Dumbledore speaks. “Minerva, please accompany Miss Granger to the hall to be Sorted.”

Hermione’s head snaps upwards just as Professor McGonagall’s head pivots towards Dumbledore.

“Albus, really!” she exclaims in a rare moment of shock. She remembers herself and clears her throat. “We do not know anything about her situation, if what she says is even true.”

“Minerva, the poor child is obviously distressed. If Voldemort intended me harm within the castle it is not his style to send an obviously frightened child.”

“She could be under the Imperius Curse.” Professor McGonagall lowers her voice when she says this but Hermione still hears it. She doesn’t blame her for being worried. Voldemort was rising in power at this time, and he had already committed many atrocities. If she’s not mistaken, the Order of the Phoenix must have already been created, or was on the verge of being created.

“Maybe so. We shall find out soon enough, I believe. Please escort Miss Granger to the Great Hall. We are already behind schedule. Any longer and I fear we may have a riot of hungry teenagers on our hands.”

Professor McGonagall’s lip tighten into such a thin line they almost disappear into her face. She turns abruptly and it takes a moment for Hermione to realize she has to follow. She scrambles to her feet to rush after her, but at the door she turns back to Dumbledore. “Thank you, sir,” she says, hoping he can hear the gratitude and relief she feels flooding into her tone. “Thank you so much.”

Professor McGonagall walks Hermione to the side door that leads into the Great Hall. It’s only ever used by teachers and the first years once a year for the Sorting ceremony. Hermione never would have thought she’d be here, standing at the front of a line of first years, waiting to be Sorted again.

Shortly after they arrive, Professor McGonagall opens the door and leads them all through into the Great Hall. Hermione is made to go first. McGonagall announces her name before even unrolling the parchment containing the names of all the new students. “Gabrielle Granger.”

Excited whispering erupts throughout the entire Great Hall as Hermione steps up to the stool, her heart hammering painfully inside her chest. It’s not common for a 16-year-old to be Sorted, after all; transfer students weren’t unheard of but very rare. The whispering, Hermione knows, is from the older students, the thrill of having a new student in their midst. Oh, the mystery and the possibilities. Hermione almost laughs at the thought. She has no intentions of mingling with any of them. Who knows what small trivial words, even just a look, could do to the past. Just the fact that she had the meeting with Dumbledore and is being Sorted has altered the past more than she’s comfortable with. What if this has already changed her present?

These thoughts run through her mind as she sits on the stool and McGonagall places the hat on her head.

“Well, well, isn’t this interesting,” the Sorting Hat says as soon as it’s placed on her head. “Aren’t you a fascinating case? From the future? You’ll have to tread carefully here.”

“Don’t I know it,” Hermione mumbles, more to herself than to the hat.

“All the knowledge you hold. You’re a pure Ravenclaw if I ever saw one.”

Hermione’s hear sinks. Ravenclaw? No way. She has nothing against the House, but it’s not her House. The Sorting Hat laughs.

“Not keen on the idea, eh? Well, your bravery and loyalty does shine through all of your actions. That Harry Potter is a lucky man to have such a faithful friend. If only he knew your worry got you in this mess in the first place.”

“Oh, just put me in Gryffindor already,” Hermione snaps. She’s not in the mood for a talking hat to tell her what she already knows. This seems to amuse the hat greatly because he spends a good few seconds cackling over Hermione’s bad mood. Finally, though, he announces her “Gryffindor”, and Hermione is free to stand and make her way to the cheering Gryffindor table. Hermione hears hooting and catcalls, but it’s not the first time she’s lived through that. She sees James and his friends clapping at the Sorting. Sirius is one of those making catcalls and Peter is doubled over laughing beside him. James grins when their eyes meet. Hermione quickly averts her gaze and sits at the furthest area away from them. Since she’s near the end of the table, Hermione only has three students sitting near her, which is a relief. No one talks to her much while the Sorting goes on, but once that’s over and done with and Dumbledore has delivered his speech and the food has appeared and everyone starts digging in, the questions begin.

Hermione is polite in her answers but short. She can’t afford to make friends here.

“Wow, a transfer student, that’s so cool! Where did you transfer from?”

“Beauxbatons Academy.” Hermione wants to build her persona with as few lies as possible. If she gives McGonagall proof that she’s lying, she knows that even Dumbledore’s compassion won’t save her.

“Why did you transfer?”

Hermione lifts her head at that. “In case you haven’t realized, there’s a war brewing. Vol- He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is on a killing spree and no one can stop him. Right now, Hogwarts is the safest place to be. Anyone with a half a brain would realize this.”

She didn’t mean to lose her temper, but the girl across from her looks like Hermione stood up and slapped her. She looks so hurt that Hermione wants to apologize, but she bites her tongue and looks back down at her plate. No, she’s not sorry for having spoken like that, it’s the truth. Even more so now when no one knows about Harry yet. At least in her time period they have Harry, they have hope.

Dinner is interminable. It drags on and on and all Hermione wants to do is fling herself into bed. Maybe she’ll wake up in her own time. Maybe this is only a temporary time-turner malfunction and she’ll wake up on the train, two hours before the Sorting ceremony in her own time period. She knows how futile these thoughts are though she can’t help but hope on one of these scenarios.

Eventually, everyone stops eating, full to the point of sickness, and Dumbledore bids them goodnight. Hermione plans to make a hasty retreat, escape to the dormitory ahead of everyone and hide out in the room. No one goes to bed early on the first night. They hang out in the common room and catch up with those they couldn’t sit beside at the table, greet the newcomers and torture them a bit with myths and legends and usually fake horror stories about their professors.

Hermione is not so lucky. Professor McGonagall is already at the entrance of the Great Hall, waiting for her.

“Despite your transfer status, you are a 6^th year student and professors will not tolerate any tardiness from an older student,” she tells Hermione, “so I am assigning a Prefect to accompany you everywhere for your entire first week here.”

Hermione has to fight not to roll her eyes. She doesn’t need to be shown around the castle; she probably knows its nook and crannies even better than Professor McGonagall. Of course, she’s not supposed to know, having just transferred from Beauxbatons. Besides, she knows it’s just a cover anyway and merely Professor McGonagall’s way of keeping an eye on her.

She looks at the Prefect assigned to her and nearly chokes on her own saliva. For one second, she almost thinks that she’s staring right into Harry’s eyes.

“Miss Granger, this is Miss Lily Evans. She has kindly volunteered to be your personal guide for the week.”

It takes a moment for Hermione to gather her bearings and when she does, she’s too shell-shocked to do anything but agree. “T-thank you.”

Lily’s resemblance to Harry ends at the eyes, thankfully, and if Hermione focuses her eyesight on Lily’s face, or chin, she finds it easier to cope with the fact that she’s following Harry’s mother up to their dormitories.

“You’ll see you’ll find your bearings in no time,” Lily says as they make their way up to the Gryffindor common room. Students are rushing past them, but Hermione doesn’t miss the curious looks sent her way from the older students. “The only intimidating thing about this place, other than its size, is the moving stairs. Do you have moving stairs at Beauxbatons?”

“N-no,” Hermione says, thrown off by the question. She tries to remember if Fleur or any of the other Beauxbatons students had ever mentioned being thrown off by the stairs at Hogwarts but all she can remember about them at this moment is how obnoxious they were.

“Gabrielle,” Lily calls out suddenly and Hermione stops in tracks. In her hurry to get to the common room, she hadn’t even noticed that she had started walking faster, leaving Lily behind. “You sure seem to know where you’re going.”

Hermione feels her face heat up and she scrambles for an excuse. “We’ve just been going up stairs,” she says, “and besides, I figured you’d stop me if I took a wrong turn.”

Lily laughs. “You’re a very confident person, aren’t you?” She smiles when she says this, and there’s no disdain in her words, the way there is in other people’s tones when they comment on how Hermione is headstrong or confident or self-assured. Tentatively, Hermione smiles back. Well, she supposes she could have landed a worse Prefect buddy.

They finally make it to the common room where Lily delivers the year’s first password – “Hippogriff.” Hermione smiles fondly at that.

“I suppose you’ll be sleeping in our room,” Lily says. “I bet the House Elves must have set up an extra bed already. Ours is on the left. You’ll see our year number marked on the door so you know which one it is.”

“Thank you,” Hermione says, like she didn’t already know. The common room is already packed full and brimming with loud talking and laughter. A few heads turn when they come into the room and now Hermione can see an interested gleam in some eyes.

“Oh, don’t you want to stay in the common room for a bit? I can introduce you to everyone.” Hermione recognizes the two girls Lily had been walking with on the platform and she can’t think of anything she would = rather do less at that particular moment than meet them and everyone else there. 

Across the room, near the fireplace, she sees James and Sirius and Remus and Peter. James is looking her way, but Remus and Sirius are discussing something, heads bent over near the fire. Sirius is laughing and Remus looks rather smug. Seeing them like this, laughing, happy… alive, makes Hermione sick to her stomach. She’s overwhelmed with the need to save them, somehow.

“N-no, thank you,” she finally manages to whisper. “Next time. Tomorrow. I have to lie down.” Hermione pushes her way past students to get to the dormitory. She sees James turn, about to head her way, but she manages to fight through the crowd and dashes to the girl’s dormitory. She slams the door shut behind her and sinks to the floor. She knows James can’t follow her up, but her body is waiting for a knock or the doorknob to turn, despite that fact. When nothing happens, she finally manages to breathe more easily.

She finds her bed quickly enough, as it’s the only one without a trunk at the foot. Since she has no other clothes, not pajamas or a change of robes, Hermione just strips down to her underwear and gets in under the covers. She pulls the curtains around her bed closed and hugs the pillow tightly against herself. 

Hermione had thought the solitude would calm her, but now that she doesn’t have to focus on avoiding James or pretending to be Gabrielle, her mind kicks into overdrive. She’s so far managed to avoid getting kicked out of Hogwarts, but how will she survive? She has no money, no textbooks, and no change of clothes. Her only solace is that at least she had her wand on her when she used the time-turner. Speaking of, Hermione lifts the necklace up again. She tries turning it, but it still won’t budge. The sand level in the top glass has not lowered since she looked at it on the train.

Hermione makes a fist around the time-turner and closes her eyes. She can’t avoid Lily, not now that she’s been made her personal guide for the next week, but she can avoid the Marauders. She’ll just have to keep her head down, go to class and find a way home. There has to be some record of a similar occurrence somewhere in the library. 

She had read up on the subject when Professor McGonagall had brought up the possibility at the end of 2^nd year, but she hadn’t done a thorough search. She’d trusted McGonagall to give her a briefing on the risks of the device and the necessary precautions to take when going back in time. Professor McGonagall had done just that, and very efficiently. She couldn’t have predicted Dumbledore giving Hermione another time-turner at the end of her 3^rd year, in case they ever needed it, in case the worst-case scenario ever presented itself and had to be changed at all costs. Hermione thought of the battle at the Department of Mysteries and how the last-functioning time-turner is currently grasped inside of her fist. Or so she’d thought. Maybe the charm on the time-turners stocked in the Time Room had affected hers as well, although she finds that hard to believe.

No, that’s a ridiculous thought. Dumbledore gave her this time-turner years before the battle took place, and Hermione’s had it on her person ever since. Hermione feels fatigue slowly creep up throughout her body. It’s been a long day and her emotions have been going haywire since Harry disappeared on the train. Slowly, Hermione lets herself give in to the temptation to sleep.

Starting tomorrow, she thinks as she starts dozing off, she’ll go to the library and find a solution. There has to be one. She sees herself, by the end of the week, reuniting with Ron and Harry, laughing because Harry’s fine and she went through all of this for nothing – but too relieved about seeing him, about being back, to be properly angry.

The thought is reassuring and Hermione clings to it, repeating it over and over in her mind as she falls asleep.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Hermione wakes up remembering that finding her way back home is not the least of her worries. She has no change of clothes. She jumps out of bed, about to put on her robes from yesterday and rush to Dumbledore’s office to report her dilemma, when something stops her short: a trunk at the foot of her bed. 

Hope lifts Hermione spirits. She can feel herself starting to smile when she lifts the top of her trunk and peers inside. Her stomach drops and the smile freezes. She is not back in her time, and these are not her possessions in the trunk. The trunk is barely half-full; a few spare robes have been neatly packed on one side while beside some rolls of parchment are a few quills and a bottle of ink. On top of it all, a neatly-folded letter sits like a bow. Hermione picks it up and unfolds it. 

Miss Granger,

Your trunk does not appear to have found its way to us as efficiently as you have. I have therefore taken the liberty of having spare robes and materials sent up until you contact your parents and can have your own possessions forwarded to you.

Regarding the matter of textbooks, I have consulted with our librarian, Madam Irma Pince, and she has graciously consented to grant you temporary permission to borrow the extra copies in the library.

She has requested of me, however, to emphasize the ephemeral nature of this loan and of the dire consequences to ensue if the textbooks were to be returned in anything less than the pristine condition in which they were entrusted to you.

On that note, Miss Granger, I urge you to acquire your own copies of the textbooks with the utmost speed.

Sincerely,

Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Order of Merlin, First Class, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, etc...

Seeing Dumbledore’s handwriting is strangely reassuring. At least he’s the same considerate Headmaster Hermione knows. Despite knowing that House Elves must have been sent it up in the middle of the night, when they should have been resting, Hermione is glad for the trunk and the supplies inside, and for Madam Pince bending the rules and allowing Hermione to borrow her cherished textbooks. If she ends up being here for longer than a week, Hermione thinks she’ll make it her personal mission to make Madam Pince trust her now just as much as she does in Hermione’s present. Hermione must be the only student in the whole school that Madam Pince doesn’t scout like a hawk when she’s holding a book. The thought cheers her up considerably. She may be in a different time period, but at least she has some familiarity to cling to.

Hermione carefully folds the letter up again and places it on her bed while she gets out a clean robe and everything she’ll need for class. Underneath all the material, she finds a rather beat up carrying bag, probably one an older student forgot or left behind when they left school for good. Hermione gets dressed and arranges everything carefully in her bag.

The pendulum clock in the room shows that it’s nearing 7:00 o’clock. Despite the early time, Hermione notices that three out of the five beds have the curtains open and the beds made. Hermione doesn’t know which bed is Lily’s, but she takes her bag and leaves the dorm anyway. It can’t be too suspicious that she can find her way to the Great Hall, seeing as she was there the previous evening, can it?

The common room is sparsely populated at this time of the day. The students who aren’t still lounging in bed trying to grasp at those extra few minutes of sleep are either showering or heading to the Great Hall for breakfast.

Hermione doesn’t linger herself. The few students in the common room look up when they hear her coming and don’t look away. Their curious gazes make Hermione nervous and she just crosses the room to the Fat Lady’s portrait as quickly as she can. She doesn’t lower her head, but doesn’t try to make eye contact either. It’s like she’s in second year all over again and no one can quite believe that Harry Potter of all people is hanging out with her, the annoying know-it-all. Hermione knows what people say about her, even now, and she’s never really cared.

But it’s different now, because people are looking at her for all the wrong reasons. She finds herself wishing they were thinking she’s an overly-studious, obnoxious girl. Because at least they would be judging her on who she is – or who they think she is based on her grades. Now, though, they’re looking at her with interest and some awe. They think she’s some exotic French foreign exchange student.

Hermione is just about to pull open the portrait when it suddenly swings forward. Hermione barely has time to duck to avoid getting smacked in the face. It’s a heavy portrait made out of solid wood.

“Oh, I’m sorry, are you all right?”

Hermione looks up quickly at the familiar voice. It’s Professor Lupin standing in front of her. Except he’s young and not a professor, yet. Hermione’s first thought is that he looks tired and beat up. His robes look two sizes too big on him and there’s a big tear on his left sleeve. He has dark bags under his eyes and his hair is all askew. There’s something about the pinched look on his face that makes Hermione thinks he’s in pain.

He looks like his older self did at Hogwarts after a full moon.

Hermione’s arm twitches; she wants to reach out and hug him and tells him that she knows. But doing so would be catastrophically stupid. If there’s one thing Hermione avoids being at all costs, it’s catastrophically stupid.

“You’re Gabrielle Granger, right? The new student. I’m Remus Lupin. Pleased to meet you.”

“Yes, Gabrielle, Hi.” Hermione stumbles over her words, trying desperately to act naturally. “Nice to meet you too, Rem… Lupin.” Young or not, Hermione can’t shake the older version of her professor from her mind and addressing Remus on a first-name basis feels just too strange aloud.

“Are you headed to the Great Hall? I just came back to wake Sirius up and grab my bag. If you want to wait, we can accompany you there. These hallways can be a bit tricky. One change of stairs and you’re set back a good dozen minutes in your trajectory.”

Sirius and Remus accompanying her? Making small talk? Asking her questions? “No!” Hermione blurts. “I mean, that’s really nice of you to offer, but, ah, Lily is already waiting for me. I’m late enough as it is and I think I remember how to get there, from last night. Thank you so much though for your offer. Very kind. Maybe we’ll see each other again soon,” Hermione’s already walking toward the opening of the common room; the portrait hadn’t closed again after Remus walked in and the Fat Lady actually seemed interested in their conversation and didn’t bark at them to move out of the way. “Bye for now!”

Hermione turns and leaves the common room in a hurry. She’s practically jogging down the hallway until she realizes that Remus isn’t going to chase her down. She feels like a fool for having panicked and even worse for having been so rude to Remus.

Still, it’s for the best, she tells herself. She can’t afford to get close. If she does, it’ll make losing them even harder when she leaves.

Hermione sees Lily right away when she takes the last set of stairs down to the Great Hall. She’s standing near the entrance, talking to someone. To James Potter. Hermione doesn’t know much about James and Lily other than that they were part of the Order of the Phoenix, but it suddenly strikes her that this must be the year they started dating, or maybe they’ve already started.

Not wanting to interrupt their conversation, Hermione tries to pass by unnoticed. Of course, though, that’s easier said than done when the hall is deserted and she’s passing not even ten feet away from them. She knows she’s been caught when Lily calls her name – well, Gabrielle’s name – and Hermione is forced to turn around, smile like she’s thrilled to see her, and make her way over to them.

She keeps her eyes on Lily, but she can feel James looking at her.

“Oh, hi, Lily,” Hermione says, like she hadn’t recognized her right away.

“Did you find your way all right? I was going to wait for you in the common room, but it’s so dreary there at this time of day. I was going to come and wake you up if you didn’t show up soon.”

“You’re the mysterious girl from the train,” James says and Hermione is forced to turn and look at him.

James’ resemblance to Harry hits her again as soon as she looks at him, but after a few seconds she can look past the similarities and start seeing how they don’t look exactly the same. James’ nose is slightly longer, and he has hazel eyes; there’s also something of a sparkle In them that Harry doesn’t have but that Hermione knows she’s seen somewhere before. Fred and George. The names pop into her head like a revelation. James has some kind of twinkle in his eyes like the twins, this mischievous grin of the eyes like they’re happy to be alive, ready to seize the day and conquer it, others in their way be damned. Harry mostly just looks tired, and defeated, and in pain.

Hermione wonders if Harry would have looked like this if his parents hadn’t died, if Tom Riddle had been stopped before he became Lord Voldemort. It’s a heartbreaking thought to have, because she’ll never know the answer.

“You’ve already met Gabrielle?” Lily asks, surprise hitching the last vowel on Hermione’s alias, thankfully excusing Hermione from answering James’ not-question.

“Not really. Aren’t you going to introduce me to your gorgeous friend, Evans?” James directs the question at Lily but he doesn’t turn to look at her.

Hermione glances at Lily, but she rolls her eyes. She looks annoyed more than jealous at James having called her gorgeous. Hermione feels her face heat up. Has anyone ever called her gorgeous before? She honestly can’t think of a single time. Not even her Muggle friends whom she still hangs out with every summer.

“Gabrielle Granger, meet Royal Pain in My Side, James Potter. Seriously, Potter, don’t you have two goons to go drag out of bed?”

“Yeah,” James says, but it’s a distracted reply, like he didn’t even hear a single word. 

“Nice to meet you,” Hermione says. James is still looking at her, although thankfully his mouthy grin has subdued into a smaller half-smile. But he’s still staring at her and Hermione is quite frankly unnerved. She turns to Lily for help. “Erm...”

Lily sighs, exasperation and irritation evident in the loud exhale. “Come on, Gabrielle, let’s get some breakfast and then we’ll head to class.”

She takes Hermione’s arm and guides her into the Great Hall. Hermione follows willingly, but it’s not until they’re finally entering the hall that she turns her head and stops looking at James, whose eyes have followed her every move.

“Be seeing you, Granger,” he calls after her, once she’s looked away.

“Don’t mind him.” The Great Hall is still relatively empty at this hour, though in a hall this size, anything less than full capacity makes it look sparse. “He’s so full of himself, he thinks every girl should fall at his feet and worship his good looks and amazing Quidditch skills.” She’s rolling her eyes as she sits, but Hermione wonders if this is jealousy disguised as annoyance.

Lily doesn’t offer any more advice and Hermione doesn’t press her for more details; she’s never been one to gossip about boys or love, and she’s not about to start now when she’s already told herself she wouldn’t be meddling. She’s already had more interactions with all of them than she’s comfortable with.

“It’s all right, I know how to deal with boys full of themselves.” Hermione fills her plate and her cup up generously with pumpkin juice. “I need to get to the library before class, actually. Madam Pince has agreed to lend me the textbooks I need for class until I can get my own.”

Lily stares at her slack-jawed for a few moments. “Dumbledore must really have forced Madam Pince’s hand,” she says. “Madam Pince hates lending her books. For good reason, though. Most students are so careless I think she’s right in being so strict.”

Hermione almost says, “I know, right?” because it’s not every day you meet a fellow sympathizer of Madam Pince’s war against the irresponsible average Hogwarts student, but remembers just in time to bite her tongue. Instead, she says, “Yes, I did get the impression that Madam Pince is rather strict, from Dumbledore’s letter. So do you think you can show me to the library after breakfast?”

“Of course!”

They spend breakfast making small talk. Lily wants to know all about Beauxbatons and Hermione’s friends and Hermione stumbles through the questions, trying not to create too many lies but trying to avoid all details of her real life that could sound familiar to Lily later on and influence her decision-making. It’s nerve-wracking and despite her best efforts to steer the conversation back to Lily and Hogwarts, Lily manages to deter the questions. By the end of breakfast, Hermione can feel a massive headache coming on.

“Beauxbatons is a beautiful school,” Hermione finds herself saying as she and Lily exit the Great Hall. “It’s very open with large windows so there’s always a lot of light,” like she has any idea, “but it still is nothing like Hogwarts. There’s something about this place that just has magic stamped all over it. Beauxbatons just looks like any lovely building, really.”

“Not many students know this, but to Muggles Hogwarts looks like an old ruin with a sign saying ‘Danger, Do not Enter, Unsafe.’”

“Oh, really?” Hermione tries her best to look surprised. “Wouldn’t that incite some of the more rebellious to actually enter?”

Lily laughs. “Maybe, but I don’t think many Muggles actually come out this way, to be honest. We are located in the middle of nowhere. I mean, even if the place didn’t also have all sorts of Muggle-repelling charms set up.”

Hermione grins. So Lily’s read Hogwarts: A History as well. She’s always thought she was the only student in the history of Hogwarts to actually be interested in this sort of knowledge. She knew she wasn’t, of course, but it’s strangely comforting to actually be talking a similar student in person, even if Hermione can’t reveal the fact that she knows all of this as well, and even if the other student does happen to be her best friend’s sixteen-year-old mother.

At the library, Madam Pince hands Hermione the books with her most intimidating look: lips drawn thin and eyes narrowed into mean little slits that look like daggers that’ll stab Hermione if she doesn’t look less than eternally grateful for the favor Madam Pince is doing her.

“I’ll protect these books from harm with my life,” she assures Madam Pince. She feels like she should bow to her, or something ridiculous, to assure her that she’s being serious.

“Yes, see to it that you do,” Madam Pince replies, tone dripping with mistrust.

“We better get to class, Gabrielle,” Lily says, a hand on Hermione’s arm. They escape the library and Lily erupts in a fit of giggles. Hermione can’t help but laugh along, the surreal situation finally catching up with her.

“See to it that you do,” Lily imitates breathlessly, between giggles, in her best-worst imitation of Madam Pince, sending them both into another fit of laugher.

They arrive to class out of breath and grinning like fools. It feels strange, laughing with a girl like this. Hermione has never really had a close girlfriend. Even her Muggle friends tend to be boys, and with Ron and Harry as friends it’s not like Hermione’s had time to expand her circle. Well, she supposes there is Ginny and Luna, but it feels more like they’ve been drawn together by circumstance and association rather than affinity or common interests.

With Lily, though… Hermione feels like there’s a kindred spirit waiting to be awakened. She tells herself to snap out of it, to remember to place some distance between them because this is Harry’s mother for goodness sake. But it’s only been half a day since Hermione’s been at Hogwarts and she’s having a hard time thinking of Lily as Harry’s mother instead of just Lily. And when Hermione announces after classes that day that she’s going to head to the library for some studying before dinner Lily beams at her.

“Really? That’s great, I’ll accompany you. The library is such a nice place to study, but my friends always insist that I study in the common room and then proceed to distract me with their talk of boys and the latest rumors.”

Hermione should be disappointed. After all, with Lily around she doubts she’ll be able to read up on time-travelling without arousing her suspicions. Still, just because Hermione is planning on leaving this time period soon doesn’t mean she’s about to neglect her studying. And it feels nice to have a serious study buddy for once.

When they head down to dinner a few hours later, all studied-out and feeling very satisfied with themselves for the work they got done, Hermione can feel the professors’ eyes on her from the front of the room. All day Hermione’s felt as though the professors have been looking at her strangely. She knows that McGonagall doesn’t believe her story and no doubt the word has gone around the staffroom and many others must doubt her credibility as well. Hermione’s index finger absently stabs her thumb as she and Lily take a seat at the Gryffindor table and she builds up her courage for the only show of authenticity that she knows.

Hermione sees Dumbledore enter the Great Hall and before she can second-guess herself or lose her courage Hermione shoots up to her feet. She remembers how all the Beauxbatons students had done this during their visit to Hogwarts and how so many students had laughed at them. Hermione knows how they felt now, as a few surprised chuckles escapes some students and how everyone else too polite to laugh outright are whispering excitedly to each other. Hermione is thankful that at least it’s dinnertime; she and Lily had been out of the Hall before Dumbledore arrived that morning and at lunch he was already seated when they’d shown up. Hermione doesn’t think she could have endured a whole day, or even half a day, of students laughing at her for this.

Hermione feels her cheeks burn with embarrassment, but she doesn’t sit down, not even when Lily leans over and whispers, “Gabrielle, we don’t do that here,” does Hermione give up and sit down. Instead, she looks over at the long table at the front of the room where the professors are looking at her, some surprised, others smiling at her sympathetically. She looks at Dumbledore, who stopped on his way to his chair when he saw her stand.

Instead of motioning her to sit, Dumbledore makes his way to his chair and sits down. Then, he looks up at Hermione and their eyes meet. There’s something in his eyes… It’s not recognition but maybe it’s comprehension. But what is it an understanding of? That Hermione is so desperate to make herself believed that her cause must be a noble one? That he believes her Beauxbatons story? All he would need to do is contact the current Headmistress of the school and Hermione’s front would be shattered that easily.

Dumbledore smiles at her and nods. It is Hermione’s cue that she can sit. Hermione collapses back onto her bench. She doesn’t feel humiliated, but her body burns like she’s embarrassed and she can’t bring herself to look at anyone, not even Lily. She can feel everyone’s eyes on her and she knows all their whispers are about her.  She knows why she feels so hot, too; it’s anger. Anger that she has to justify herself in this world all over again. Anger that she has to prove herself to professors and a Headmaster who trusts her implicitly in her time.

She wishes she knew a spell so that the ground beneath her would open up and swallow her. She wouldn’t mind hanging out with the House Elves for a few hours.

Hermione doesn’t see or hear James, Sirius, Remus and Peter arriving late for dinner. It’s only Sirius letting his school books land loudly on the table that jolts her back to her painful reality.

James is looking curiously at the students still chuckling and whispering, some looking at Hermione. James follows their gaze down to her.

“What did you do?” The nasal voice sends shivers of disgust down Hermione’s arms; she can actually feel the hairs there stand up on end. Peter.

Thankfully, she’s spared interaction with the vermin. “Drop it, Peter,” James says as he takes a seat by Hermione.

“Hey!” he suddenly barks at a Slytherin who has been pointing over at her from across the Hall and laughing louder than the rest. “Why don’t you mind that your boyfriend’s greasy hair doesn’t drip onto your plate?”

Hermione wants nothing more than to get up and call it an early night, but she can’t lose face in front of the whole school. Besides, it’s ephemeral culture shock. More than half of these students have never gone abroad, much less actually met a student from Beauxbatons. ‘The Wizarding world can be so narrow-minded,’ Hermione thinks.

Her eyes meet James’ and he winks at her before turning his attention to the delicious meal on the table. Hermione smiles to herself. No, she thinks, there are worse things than being laughed at for being different. She glances uneasily at Sirius and Peter. For one, being in her current predicament.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Hermione is intercepted by Professor McGonagall on her way to class. Lily shoots her a curious look.

“I’ll save you a seat in class,” she says before taking off.

Hermione follows Professor McGonagall towards her office, wishing she hadn’t had that last sausage at breakfast because she feels her stomach turning it over now, making her uncomfortably full. She has the sinking feeling that this is it, that they’ve contacted Beauxbatons Academy and confirmed that she is a liar and an imposter and no doubt in league with Voldemort and intending Dumbledore harm.

“Take a seat, Miss Granger.” Professor McGonagall’s words are clipped and her voice cool, but this is how she always speaks to students and Hermione can’t tell if she’s being her usual professional self or angry, or even delighted that she’ll be the one to expel Hermione from Hogwarts grounds.

Hermione is thankful for the offer, because her knees are suddenly wobbly and the solid chair does her good. She places her hands in her lap, unaware that she’s wringing them until she twists her thumb particularly hard and separates her hands suddenly with a painful gasp.

Professor McGonagall shoots her a stern look, but proceeds to sit down as well.

“I am afraid to inform you that there is a small problem with your transfer.”

“Oh?” Hermione asks, her voice small. Dare she hope for the best, now that Professor McGonagall hasn’t opened with ‘You’re expelled?’

“Aside from a total lack of documents asserting your level of competence in the various magical fields, it must be brought to your attention that students at our school pass their O.W.Ls in their fifth year, not in their sixth as is tradition at your former school of education. Headmaster Dumbledore has been unable to get in touch with your former professors and receive any kind of indication as to your level, and therefore it has been agreed upon by the faculty that you shall have to pass your O.W.Ls in order to select your N.E.W.T. level classes. It must come as no surprise to you, I am sure, that most professors are not keen on accepting a student into their class of whom they have no indication of her level. Of course, the situation will be explained to the judges, but the degrees of their leniency will be entirely up to them.”

Oh, right. Wait. What? Professor Dumbledore is unable to reach any of her old professors? Hermione’s mind spins, trying to fully grasp the meaning behind what Professor McGonagall is telling her. Surely if Professor Dumbledore contacted Beauxbatons they would be rushing over each other to inform him that they have never heard of a Gabrielle Granger in their lives, much less taught her in their classes.

“Under the circumstances, you be tested as quickly as possible so you do not fall behind on the curriculums. Your session has been scheduled for next week.”

“Only a week to study for the O.W.L.s?” Hermione blurts out. “That’s madness.”

“I am well aware of the unfortunate circumstances, but regarding your lack of transcripts the concession being made is more than generous, I assure you.”

“I don’t even have my textbooks or my notes!”

“One of your fellow students will accommodate you. Lily Evans is a particularly gifted student. I am sure she will gladly tutor you after class.”

“Am I not excused from classes until I pass the exams?”

“Of course not. You will attend classes with the 5th year students while you prepare for the exams. If you fail them, Miss Granger, I am afraid you will be forced to attend the 5th year classes permanently.”

“You mean redo my 5th year!”

“Well, I assure you our teaching methods are very different from those at Beauxbatons Academy and you will find it is not the same as repeating a year.”

Hermione wants to cry. She can already feel the stress creeping up her spine, seeping into her bones. Last time she had a whole year to prepare for the exams and she still wasn’t able to achieve full marks on all of them! How can she expect to pass the exams now with only a week of studying? And to repeat a year? No, the thought is too horrible to even entertain. Even if Hermione is not planning on staying long in this world, she can’t let herself fail her O.W.Ls. Her dignity won’t allow it.

“Now,” Professor McGonagall continues, “we have to discuss the electives you would like to sign up for.”

“Study for the O.W.Ls in a week? That’s madness!” Lily exclaims after Hermione catches up with her after class. As an official 5th year student, Hermione didn’t feel comfortable intruding in on a class after Professor McGonagall had let her go.

Hermione gives her a bitter smile. “That’s what I said, but Professor McGonagall insists that no professor will want me in their class if I can’t prove my level.” At least now Hermione knows why all the professors had been looking at her askew during her first day. “Until I pass the exams, I’ve been delegated to 5th year classes. Unless I pass the O.W.Ls will flying colors, I’ll be there permanently.”

Lily grabs Hermione’s arm and stops her in her tracks. “That’s not going to happen, Gabrielle. I still have all my notes from last year for every subject. What electives did you take?”

“Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Care of Magical Creatures.”

“I didn’t take Care of Magical Creatures myself, but I think Remus did. I’ll ask him to see if he still has his notes. He’s a good student, though you wouldn’t think it since he hangs out with those three headcases. Don’t freak out, Gabrielle. We’ll get you through this and you won’t have to repeat 5th year.”

Hermione smiles at Lily weakly, but Lily’s coolness at the situation does help her to keep from panicking too much. Hermione know she’s being ridiculous. She’s already freaking out over retaking her O.W.Ls when that’s the last thing in the world she should be worrying about. If she focuses on finding a way home, she’ll avoid retaking the exams entirely.

‘But what if getting home isn’t that easy?’ Hermione thinks as she heads to the library for the first study session. Lily told her to meet her there while she runs to pick up last years’ notes. ‘What if the situation takes longer than a week and I’m forced back into 5th year classes while I research time-travel?’ The thought is like a nightmare come to life and Hermione knows that, no matter her predicament, redoing a year regardless if it’s in the past is not an option for her. And neither is failing her O.W.Ls.

Hermione’s first week at Hogwarts flies by. She spends every waking moment when she’s not in class studying: in the Great Hall between bites, on her way to class, during breaks and late into the night in the common room with Lily. They sit on the couch by the fireplace and Lily quizzes her on all the different subjects.

“You know so much of this already!” Lily exclaims. “It’s impressive.”

Hermione blushes. She’s not the type to relax the summer away and she did read the textbooks required of her for 6th year, which recaps much of the 5th year material. Still, her memory is not infallible and there are many sections from the year that she doesn’t recall.

“Even if our O.W.Ls aren’t until 6th year, Beauxbatons has a very rigorous curriculum,” she tries to explain. Hermione is surprised at how similar Lily’s notes are to her own; so little has changed in eighteen years. Hermione’s isn’t sure if she’s glad of it or worried at how Hogwarts curriculum seems to be frozen in time.

As promised, Lily asks Remus for his notes from 5th year Care of Magical Creatures that he gladly lends Hermione and ends up joining her and Lily at night during their study sessions, which on more than one occasion deviates into theoretical debates on the material they’re studying and quickly digresses into intellectual conversations Hermione has never had with another student, much less two.

When words gets around that Hermione is studying for her O.W.Ls in only a week, she becomes something of a celebrity.

“We’re placing bets,” James tells her one morning when he takes a seat across from Hermione at breakfast time, “on whether you’ll pass or not.” He seems awfully proud of himself for telling her this and Hermione wonders if the bet was his idea, or his and Sirius’.

James has taken up the habit of popping up at Hermione’s side ever since Remus lent her his notes, like they’ve suddenly become friends by association. He only turns up when Lily isn’t there though, either at class or off doing Prefect duties. Hermione hasn’t seen James and Lily together since she interrupted their talk on her first day at Hogwarts, but from the amount of time James invests in tormenting her Hermione knows that something is going on.

Just the other evening, Hermione had been falling asleep over her plate when something had hit her on the cheek. It had been something small and hard, sent with enough momentum to produce a stinging effect on impact. Hearing Lily give a little shriek of pain, Hermione knew that she was under attack as well, just as another one of something small had hit her. It was James and Sirius, rolling up little balls of parchment paper and using a levitating charm to fire them at others: paper bullets.

“Are they always like this?” Hermione cries as she raises her textbook to protect her face from the assault. Lily has an unrolled parchment for protection.

“I’m afraid so. You’ll get used to it.”

When the firing subsides, Hermione lowers her textbook and sends the two boys her best angry look. It’s a look that works well on Ron and Harry when they’re being immature gits, but James and Sirius are too busy laughing at their pranks to pay much attention. James looks over at her at one point, grinning, and winks at her.

Hermione finds herself slowly growing used to James’ presence and stops jumping when he approaches her suddenly, or growing nervous when he talks to her. She realizes that she can’t avoid him now, so she tries to keep her interactions with him to a minimum. Going out of her way to avoid him, she realizes, only makes him more interested in hunting her down.

Sirius and Peter are another story. Hermione can’t look at Sirius too long without feeling immense sorrow wash over her, and whenever she sees Peter at his side (which is always) she is simultaneously filled with rage and a strong impulse to take out her wand and hex that dirty rat. Dealing with these conflicting emotions at once is not something Hermione is a stranger to. Having to suppress the feelings out of fear of altering the past is another thing entirely. And so Hermione tries her best to avoid Sirius at all costs. If she sees Remus waving her over when Sirius is nearby she mumbles a quick excuse and makes a dash for the dorms. If Peter asks her a question at mealtime Hermione snaps the answer at him and quickly asks Lily a much more complicated question about O.W.Ls that she knows Peter won’t be able to follow.

The weekend for her O.W.Ls comes and goes, and then she’s called to Professor McGonagall’s office the very next day for her results. Rapid markings were the only concession the judges had been willing to make.

Professor McGonagall congratulates her sincerely and hands her a roll of parchment. Hermione unrolls it then and there, and a rush of adrenaline lights her up. All Os! She double-checks the results again. Outstanding, she reads successively until she lands on that one subject and she can’t help but smile, proud of herself: Defense Against the Dark Arts, Outstanding.

She shows the results to Lily as soon as she gets back to the common room and Lily shrieks and pulls her into a hug.

“Remus, look! She got all Outstandings. That’s… Outstanding!”

“Congratulations,” Remus grins.

Hermione looks over to where James and Sirius were standing just seconds ago but finds the corner vacant.

They return an hour later, arms full of sweets and crisps and…

“Is that Firewhiskey?” Lily exclaims, going through the bags of food. It’s late and most of the Gryffindors have gone up to bed. The few who stayed behind grin and inch closer to the loot James and Sirius have brought back.

“And Butterbeer?” one girl says, obviously pleased.

“We had to throw a party, in celebration,” James exclaims. He pulls goblets Hermione is sure they got from the kitchens out of a bag and fills them all to the brim with Butterbeer.

“A toast,” he says once everyone has a cup. He looks at Hermione. “Thank you,” he says, “for having made me a very wealthy man.”

Hermione laughs and knows she’s blushing.

She looks over at Lily, who’s blushing but then says, “He’s taking all the credit, but he actually had to split the pot three ways.”

The other students call it a night a short time after the first drink; it’s not a weekend night and getting up is hard enough as it is. But the six of them stay up late into the night celebrating, responsibilities be damned.

Hermione can’t believe she’s spent a week in this time period already. She can’t believe how comfortable she feels around Lily and Remus and James. She can’t believe that, until this very moment, she forgot that she somehow has to get back home.

Chapter Text

It happens a few days later. After passing her O.W.Ls Hermione is swamped in homework to catch up in the N.E.W.T-level classes she’s taking. She can’t think of a reason to avoid doing the homework that wouldn’t avoid rousing suspicion, not after all the effort she went through to study for the exams, and as a consequence Lily is glued to her side, helping her with her overdue assignments.

By the time Lily drops her off in the common room in the evening for her Prefect duties Hermione is studied out and barely has enough energy to stumble to bed and pass out. Her brain feels constantly fried. Hermione never thought that she, of all people, would actually wish she had less work on her plate.

On Friday evening, Lily has Prefect duties and Hermione hurries to finish her dinner. Finally, she can go to the library on her own and begin her research; she’s spent too much time here as it is.

Hermione is heading up to the library when James pops out of nowhere.

“Hey there, Granger. I saw Evans hurrying up the stairs.”

“Ah, yes, she has Prefect duties this morning.”

“How dreadful, all that responsibility. Don’t you think so, Granger?”

“Ah, well…”

“I was just on my way to Hogsmeade for a stroll. Care to join me?”

Hermione frowns. “Hogsmeade? I didn’t know this was a Hogsmeade evening.”

“Well, it’s not exactly, but why should that stop us?”

Of course, Prongs the Marauder, always looking for a thrill. Hermione has to check herself from rolling her eyes. “Oh, I would love to, really, but I still have so much work to catch up on…”

“Bullocks to that! Remus told me how you’re practically all caught up already.”

“Practically is not completely,” Hermione chastises. “Besides, my parents didn’t sign the form.”

James laughs but he sounds genuinely confused when he asks, “What form?”

“Don’t you have forms? We do at, ah, Beauxbatons to leave school grounds. Besides, I told Lily I’d be at the library when she was done with her duties.”

“Well, bugger Evans!” James exclaims, maybe a bit too loudly. “And bully for the forms, too. You know what you need, Granger? You need some fun! Now, come on.” James places a firm hand on Hermione’s back and Hermione finds herself being guided away from the library by James.

It’s not like Hermione is a stickler for the rules, like most people who don’t know her tend to think. She’s broken plenty of rules in her five years at Hogwarts; but there was always a reason, always a legitimate purpose that overruled the system in place.

She’s never broken the rules before to take an unproductive stroll around Hogsmeade.  And yet a part of her is curious and wants to follow James. James is what Harry never had the opportunity to be, Hermione finds herself thinking, and there’s something in James’ carefree attitude that Hermione finds oddly reassuring. This is what Ron and Harry would have loved to do, sneak out for no reason in the evening after class, knowing they’d be breaking curfew and countless other rules. But with the fate of the Wizarding world riding on their shoulders it’s not something they’ve ever allowed themselves to even consider.

Following James through the hole-in-the-wall secret passage that Hermione’s not supposed to know about, but does know about because of Harry, is a curious experience. Similar to what Hermione imagines an out-of-body experience might feel like. It’s surreal.

Then, they’re in Honeydukes, lifting a trapdoor and stepping into the storage section of the store. James turns to her and presses a finger to his lips. “This is the trickiest part,” he whispers. “No one can see us coming out of this room.”

He opens the door a slit and inspects the shop, then he pulls it open just large enough for their bodies to slip through. He closes the door behind Hermione and pushes her along the aisles.

“How about one of those floating bubblegums? Think Remus would like one of those?” James asks loudly, pointing to a stack of candy. The shop owner looks up at them disinterestedly and then goes back to reading his newspaper.

Hermione suppresses the urge to giggle. The rebel in her stirs. She may care about her grades even when she knows they’ll have no impact on her permanent record when she returns home, but this act of rebellion feels good. It feels liberating.

“I think Lupin likes his feet planted on the ground.” She walks down the aisle, looking at all the candy. Most of them she recognizes, but there are some candies that have not stood the test of time. “How about this…One drop is all it takes in your best friend (or enemy’s) pumpkin juice, and listen as his or her voice becomes a her or a him. What do you think? Black’s drink, or Pettigrew’s?”

She’s only joking, but James snatches the small vial out of her hands and reads the description himself. “Sirius, definitely Sirius. Peter’s too sensitive over these things. He already thinks his voice sounds like he’s got a permanent stuffy nose he can’t charm away.”

‘He does,’ Hermione thinks spitefully.

To her surprise, James actually buys the vial, and then he beckons her toward the exit.

Although the sun has set there is no shortage of light. Every store in Hogsmeade has their doors open and bells jingle cheerfully as people go in and out. Hermione has never been to Hogsmeade this late, she suddenly realizes, and she’s surprised at the level of activity in this remote village.

She sees stores she recognizes: The Hog’s Head, The Three Broomsticks Inn, Scrivenshaft’s Quilll, among others. Other stores she notices are absent, not yet having been established: Wizarding Wireless Network, Zonko’s Joke Shop. And yet more stores are around that Hermione doesn’t recognize, ones she knows go out of business or change with the shifting economy.

James takes her inside Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop, which is so much smaller than how Hermione knows it as, though still just as pink and frilly and silly-looking. The store might not undergo extensive renovations over the course of 18 years but they do expand to add more than the two tables currently there. Hermione doubts it’s the go-to location for couples now as it is in her time.

“I’d like one hot cocoa, please,” James orders. Hermione hangs back, trying to avoid looking at the pink décor lest it blind her. With the stress of the O.W.Ls having been weighing her down Hermione hasn’t given any thought to her situation. She hasn’t figured out what to do about money or textbooks. 

Once they’ve left the store James hands her the hot beverage. Hermione can only stare at it, unsure if James is offering her a drink or giving it to her.

“Here, have it.”

“Aren’t you going to have any?”

“Nah, I don’t like cocoa.”

Hermione is baffled. What if she didn’t like cocoa! Thankfully, though, she loves hot cocoa and accepts the drink. “Thank you.” It’s too hot to drink right away and she just holds it as they walk. James sets an unhurried pace, which Hermione finds nice. It feels like they’re walking in slow motion as others around them hurry past, most likely eager to get their evening shopping done and hurry home to their families.

“So, tell me all about yourself.” James turns his whole body toward her when he speaks, able to match her speed while walking sideways.

“What’s there to tell?” Hermione hates this conversation. She doesn’t want to talk about Beauxbatons and have to invent more lies.

“Who you are, who you want to be.” James turns his body around again so he’s facing forward, walking normally.

Hermione sips her cocoa. It’s thick and warm and has a rich, bitter chocolate taste, balanced out by the sweetness of melted marshmallows. It’s very good. Hermione will have to remember to go back to Madam Puddifoot’s in eighteen years and see if they’re still as good.

James’ voice doesn’t sound anything like Harry’s, Hermione finds herself thinking. It’s not as deep, and there’s an easiness to his voice that Harry doesn’t possess. Most of the time Harry seems to live in his thoughts, and when he talks his words are heavy with the weight he’s put into them. It’s not that James speaks without thinking. He just lives in the present, in the current world, and the way he speaks reflects that. Hermione envies him.

“I’m Gabrielle Granger. I want to be someone who makes a difference.”

“I don’t think that was quite vague enough for me.”

Hermione laughs. “What do you want me to say? I’m almost seventeen years old. Other than defeating Voldemort, I don’t have many long-term goals right now.” The words slip out before she can censor them and she realizes her mistake before she’s even done speaking.

James stares at her, mouth hanging open slightly.

“Whoa,” he whispers. “No one dares say his name around here, except Dumbledore.”

Hermione blushes. She can’t admit that it took her almost five years before she was able to bring herself to say Voldemort’s name without fear. “Being terrified of a name only grants the person even more power over you. I refuse to be controlled like that.”

“I’m impressed. Smart and tenacious.”

Hermione rolls her eyes. “That’s not a compliment, you know.”

“Sure it is. I’m very tenacious myself and I’m very proud of this fact.”

Hermione laughs and shakes her head. She’s not sure if James is being cute or thick-headed. They’ve left the village behind them and are on their way back up to Hogwarts. She realizes something else when she looks ahead, that they’re almost at the Shrieking Shack.  

Hermione sees the building in the distance, past the fence. She slows down. This is where James goes once a month to become a stag. Where Peter goes to become a rat. Oh, the dramatic irony.

“That’s the Shrieking Shack,” James says, noticing where Hermione is looking. “They say it’s haunted. Students say they can hear a ghost howling at night.”

“You don’t believe that?”

“Well, ghosts don’t usually howl, do they?”

“I’ve heard about this Shack. It’s rather famous, you know. I’ve heard people say that the noises are most prominent on the full moon.” She’s watching James carefully, but he’s a better actor than she is and she watches his eyebrows shoot up in fake surprise.

“I suppose maybe the magical qualities of the full moon must agitate whatever spirit inhabits the place more than normal.”

“Have you ever snuck in?”

James looks over at Hermione, genuinely surprised this time. “What makes you think I’d do such a thing?”

Hermione shrugs. “You seem like the daredevil type. Certainly not one to be put off by rumors of ghosts or spirits.”

James grins. “How do you know me so well already, Granger? Well, if you must know, I’ve tried. But I swear there’s no way inside that Shack. Whoever built it, and supposedly died in it, must have wanted to make sure no one ever bothered them. I suppose it’s for the best. The place gives me shivers.”

Hermione doesn’t doubt that the place gives James the shivers, but it’s what type of shiver he gets that’s left unsaid. Personally, Hermione can imagine this boy getting quite the thrill of transforming into a stag every month and hanging out with one of the most ferocious and feared beasts in the Wizarding world.

“Come on, it’s getting darker. We’re almost back to the castle.” And he slips his hand into the one she’s not holding her cocoa with.

Hermione doesn’t realize James is reaching out to her until his touch warms her cold fingers. It also sets off the red alarm in her mind. She instinctively stiffens and jerks her hand out of James’ before she can analyze the situation.

She hadn’t realized how comfortable and relaxed she had been feeling until the mood’s ruined and all her nerves are on edge, heightening her senses.

She sees different emotions flash across James’ face – bashfulness, embarrassment, indignity.

“I’m sorry.” He apologizes defensively. “I thought you… Well, you seemed like…” His cheeks are flushed red and he looks away from Hermione, the muscles in his jaw flexing visibly.

Hermione feels like a fool for having missed the signs: the impromptu visit to Hogsmeade, the hot cocoa, the looks... She’s just not used to romance in her life. Her mind jumps to Harry and Cho, to Ginny and Michael: all twisted, pathetic attempts at normalcy in their lives. They’re just not built for it, not with everything they’ve been through. Hermione feels comfortable around boys. She can be herself, as smart and obnoxious as she wants without having to worry about them gossiping with their guy friends later.

Maybe that’s why she hadn’t realized what James was doing. Even Krum, Hermione has to admit to herself, was nothing more than friendship and a little bit of curiosity. Romantic feelings had been flying high with the Yule Ball and Hermione had felt out of her league. Krum had just been a way to save face with Harry and Ron. There hadn’t been signs to misread.

“I’m sorry. I’m not good at this. And, with Lily…” She lets her voice drift off because James is looking at her again, unsmiling, even almost angry.

“What about Evans? What the bloody hell has that girl been saying about me now?”

Hermione is stunned by the venom in his voice, the anger and violence that drip from the curse words. Has she ruined everything? “No, nothing. I just thought… Nothing. I’m sorry. I really did have a lovely time, James.”

It’s the first time Hermione’s says his name and it feels weird in her mouth. It feels odd stretching her mouth wide like that instead of opening it like for Harry’s name.

James doesn’t say anything. He shakes his head and lets out an aggravated sigh, and then he turns and starts walking back up to the castle. This time, Hermione has to jog to keep up with his pace. He leads her to the secret passage that sees them safely into the castle, bypassing the entrance door guarded by the Head Boy, anxious to take points from poor students who stayed out on the Quidditch pitch too late and missed curfew.

Hermione tries to tell James that she’s sorry again, but when they reach the common room James makes a beeline for the dorms and calling after him would just cause a scene. The common room is full of students studying or hanging out with their friends. Hermione hates creating a scene for others to gawk at more than anything.

She can see James’ friends sitting by the fireplace though, and out of the corner of her eye Hermione sees Sirius looking at her. Hermione meets his eyes. She can’t decipher his expression but she can tell that he’s not pleased with her. Hermione ducks her head and heads to her dorm as well.

It doesn’t take long before Lily joins her in the room. Hermione’s changed into her pajamas and is lying down on the bed staring up at the ceiling and thinking of how she’s royally fucked up, in more sense than one, but the most important is that she’s made James think Lily is talking trash about him. How in the world is she going to fix that?

Lily pulls back a curtain and takes a seat on Hermione’s bed before pulling the curtain closed again.

“I was surprised when you weren’t at the library like you said you would be,” Lily starts quietly. A couple of the other girls have already gone to bed. It’s close to ten o’clock, though it hadn’t felt like that to Hermione when she’d been out. “But then I overheard Black and Lupin talking about how Potter had snuck off to Hogsmeade and I had my doubts.”

Hermione sits up in the bed, propping the pillow behind her back. She briefly considers denying it, making up some other story, but then she scolds herself for even thinking of lying. She owes Lily so much more than that.

So she tells Lily everything, about James whisking her off, walking around Hogsmeade, the Shrieking Shack, and even about James taking her hand.

“I didn’t enable him, Lily, I swear. I pulled my hand back immediately. I thought he’d invited me purely out of friendship. I hope you don’t mind.”

Lily frowns when Hermione finishes, and then her eyes widen. Her laugh startles Hermione. She’s having a fit of laughter and Hermione is lost as to the cause of it.

“Mind? Why would I mind? Gabi, you don’t seriously think there’s something between Potter and me?” She laughs harder at that, as though the idea is the most hilariously absurd thing she’s ever heard.

Hermione is blushing. Of course she’d deduced they weren’t together, but… “I saw you two together my first day here. You seemed close. And then he’s always teasing you…”

Lily finally calms down, and after a few hiccups of a chuckle, stops laughing. “That prick has been trying to impress me since first year. I’ve never liked the way he acts – arrogant and confident, like he’s a present we should be thrilled to be offered. But he’s always been a bully. Okay, yes, he seems to have mellowed out this year, I haven’t seen him bully anyone yet, but Gabi,” Lily grasps Hermione’s hands in hers and looks at her straight in the eyes, “as a friend, I’d recommend you stay away from him. It’s been two weeks and I promise you this is a front to gain your attention. He’ll soon be back to pulling mean pranks at other people’s expenses.”

Hermione’s head is spinning. She knew James was a troublemaker but she thought he bent school rules like Fred and George did, for gratuitous fun, not gratuitous violence.

“If he really has turned a new leaf,” Lily is going on, “then he’s all yours. But, between you and me, with the friends he’s got he won’t be Mr. Goody-goody for much longer.”

With that, Lily gives Hermione a sympathetic smile and slips out of her bed and into her own; completely oblivious that she’s left a devastated Hermione behind her.

Hermione knows that by merely existing in the past she’s screwing up the timeline. But she’d thought that if she kept out of the way, if James and Lily got together, maybe there’d still be a chance she wouldn’t ruin anything.

Hermione slumps back against the headboard of her bed. She’s not the best-versed in girl code, but if Lily’s given her the green light to be interested in James doesn’t that mean Lily won’t go for James herself?

Slowly, Hermione brings her hands up to her forehead and cups her head.

‘What. Have. I. Done?’

Chapter Text

For the next few days, Hermione finds herself alone a great deal of the time. Now that Lily’s week as her guide is over and Hermione’s passed the exams and caught up in her work, Lily’s Prefect duties have been reinstated in full and her friends she’s been neglecting in favor of helping Hermione studying are requesting her attention.

She barely sees James anywhere, except in class where he sits far away from her and in the common room at night. He doesn’t corner her in the hallway and they don’t even accidentally bump into each other, a fact which Hermione tries not to dwell on, but does anyway. James is using the Marauder Map to stay clear of her.

Hermione tries to be glad of this fact. Now she can begin her research on time-travel more seriously. Still, being at the library without Lily feels strangely uncomfortable. Hermione tells herself to get used to it. She won’t have Lily when she returns home, and Harry and Ron have made their lack of enthusiasm quite clear when it comes to hitting the books.

Hermione begins every study session by picking up where she left off in the time-travel books before switching over to actual schoolwork later. Lily always ends up joining her after her duties are over or after she’s done hanging out with friends. Hermione knows she could explain her interest in time-travelling as purely recreational – a hobby of sorts – but she doesn’t dare. She doesn’t dare say anything that could influence Lily’s judgment later on in her life.

It feels a lot like sentencing Lily to death. Even though Hermione knows it’s not her fault, it still feels like she’s the one sending Lily off to die. On so many occasions Hermione wants to grab Lily, stare deep into her eyes and say, “Never trust Pettigrew,” or “Sirius would never betray you and James,” or “Please give James a chance.”

But she doesn’t, even if the words would save Lily’s life temporarily they may not in the long run, and it may cost the lives of thousands of other innocents. She doesn’t have the key to defeating Voldemort, and even if she did speaking up could just as well cause Voldemort’s early and complete demise as it could backfire and lead to his ultimate and unchallenged victory.

The past is volatile, and even though something may seem like a certainty in the future that doesn’t mean that it would be if tried in the past instead.

So Hermione holds her tongue. She holds herself in check when Peter speaks to her, forcing herself to be relatively polite and not punch him or hex him, however much she wants to.

And Hermione tries not to despair as book after book reveals no answer to her on how to get back home. Has there been no documented case of someone travelling back too far? Of a time-turner that malfunctioned? The answer, apparently, is no. Hermione learns nothing in her research, nothing that she didn’t already know.

A few mornings after the failed non-date at Hogsmeade, James sits across from Hermione and beside Lily at breakfast, Sirius, Remus and Peter in tow.

Hermione is surprised, as James hasn’t talked to her, much less looked her way, since Hogsmeade, but Lily just looks annoyed.

“What are you guys doing?”

“Grabbing some breakfast, Evans. Why, what do you do at breakfast time here?” James replies immediately, winking at Hermione as he starts piling his plate up with food.

Remus takes a seat by Hermione and Sirius sits next to him, with Peter across the table by James.

It’s the second time they’ve all sat together like this, the first time being Hermione’s second night at the school when she stood up and made a fool of herself, but there’s something she’s noticed about how the boys sit, regardless of where: Sirius and Remus always sit side by side, across from Peter and James.

Lily just clicks her tongue against the back of her teeth in annoyance and looks away from James.

“Just ignore them, Gabi. Have you heard back from your parents about your textbooks and school material?”

Hermione told Lily she’d sent her parents a letter using one of the school owls. In reality, if she had contacted her parents, she’s sure a letter from their currently unborn daughter would traumatize them and possibly scare them into never having kids, altering the future into one where she doesn’t even exist. Hermione wonders what would happen to her, in the past, if that happened. Would she just drop dead? Fade away and experience her own unbeing? Hopefully she won’t have to find out the answer to that.

“Um, no. They’re still vacationing. I think they’re in Peru right now.”

“Why don’t you just use the Doubling Charm?” Sirius says.

“Well, you know if you explain the situation to Madam Pince I’m sure she’ll extend the loan,” Lily says, blatantly ignoring Sirius. “You’ve shown yourself more than trustworthy with her books. I’m positive she likes you a bit more now.”

“The Charm is a great idea, Sirius. Why don’t you give it a shot, Granger?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lily snaps, unable to keep ignoring the pair. “The Doubling Charm is a highly-sensitive spell. If anything goes wrong, Gabrielle could irreversibly damage the school books.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Evans,” James snaps right back. “I’m sure someone who got an O in Charms can easily pull off a Doubling Charm. Besides,” James turns to Hermione, his voice dropping the irritated edge, “you’re more than welcome to charm my books, Granger.”

“Are you for real?”

Hermione smiles. She knows Lily is just looking out for her but the Doubling Charm is a brilliant idea. She can’t believe she hasn’t thought of it herself. Besides, she’s pulled off harder spells than that one.

“That’s a great idea, Potter. Can we cast the spell this evening in the common room? It’d be a great relief to not have to worry about Madam Pince’s precious books.”

They fall into a companionable silence after that. Or at least, it’s a companionable to Hermione. She can’t say that Lily looks as comfortable in the boys’ presence. Hermione finds herself wondering what’s happened in the past that has made Lily so affronted to James and Sirius. She’s polite and even nice to Remus, but as soon as Sirius or James appears she raises her hackles. Something bad must have happened between them to make her react like that.

Hermione’s only consolation is that at least she did not provoke this animosity between James and Lily. It’s obviously a long-standing one, maybe even dating back to their first year. It reminds Hermione of how Harry and Draco Malfoy’s rivalry began, with a refusal to shake hands. She know James and Lily somehow manage to overcome their differences and fall in love, but how will that happen now that Hermione’s standing in their way?

“Have you started your paper for Defense Against the Dark Arts?” Hermione hears Remus ask her.

Glad for the distraction from her thoughts, Hermione nods vigorously. “Yes, actually, I find Boggarts quite fascinating. I’ve already studied them before, though not quite so in depth. The origin of the spell is really interesting, particularly.” Hermione remembers of course who taught her about Boggarts first. And she remembers quite clearly the shape of Remus’ own worst nightmare.

She can feel Sirius watching her while she and Remus compare ideas and notes. It’s not a paper that will have much weight on their grade, so Hermione doesn’t mind discussing the details of her research, although she knows Remus would never copy her ideas. Still, Sirius’ fixed gaze unnerves her. Finally, she looks up. It’s like Sirius is trying to stab her with his eyes. It hurts to see Sirius, friend and ally, looking at her this way. She knows that Sirius is not the person he is when she knows him, not yet, and that she is a stranger who has swooped in and started befriending his friends. She may have Remus’ trust already, she reflects, but she has done nothing to gain Sirius’.

“What do you think, Black?” Hermione decides she needs to make more of an effort. Her plan to ignore the Marauders has obviously backfired and she needs to improvise. If she can’t avoid them, then she’ll befriend them. She just won’t actively interfere with their actions and hopefully that won’t alter the course of future events.

“I think you two are dreadfully dull,” is Sirius’ reply. “Talking about class before class. You truly are mad.” And with that, he finally looks away, engaging James and Peter in an animated discussion about Quidditch. From the snippets Hermione catches of their conversation as she talks to Remus, James is starting his first year as Gryffindor’s Captain and he’s set the try-outs for the coming weekend.

After breakfast, they all have N.E.W.T Potions except for Peter, who slinks off to Muggle Studies. Remus and Sirius walk on ahead while Hermione finds herself between James and Lily’s icy silence.

“If you meet me in the common room after dinner tonight, I’ll bring down all my textbooks and you can place the Charm on them. I’ve read that the duplicated copies deteriorate after a time, but if that happens then you’re more than welcome to charm my books again.”

When James says ‘charm my books’ Hermione has the uncomfortable sensation that he’s talking about something else entirely different. Still, she smiles, grateful for his generosity. If Hermione does botch the spell she could very well destroy his textbooks in the process. “Thank you. I promise I’ll do my best not to ruin your books.”

“Hey, if Madam Pince trusts you with her books, then I would be a fool not to.”

Lily coughs loudly beside them. Hermione thinks she heard a low groan of disgust right before she masked the noise. Getting these two together may be harder than she thought.

Unlike Professor Snape, Professor Slughorn accepts students who received Es on their O.W.L.s into his N.E.W.T-level potions class. Still, despite that fact, and despite that there are students in the class from all four Houses, there are still only twenty students at the most.

Harry had told Hermione that their new professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts was named Slughorn, and Hermione assumes that this must be the same man. Despite being the Head of Slytherin, Professor Slughorn doesn’t appear to outwardly favor his students in the same manner as Snape and Hermione finds herself thinking that she might actually enjoy his lessons when she gets back.

Their lesson for the day consists of brewing a standard cleaning potion. Nothing too difficult, Slughorn had assured them, to get back into the swing of things. Sixth year students only have one Potions class a week and Hermione is glad to hear that their first lesson consists mostly as a recap of the previous year. This is one of the few classes she hasn’t had any work to catch up on in.

Hermione has never had a quieter Potions class. Other than Sirius, who tampers with the potion of the girl sitting beside him (he puts it in some mice droppings when she’s not looking, causing her potion to turn yellow and make cracking noises, like fireworks going off in her cauldron), most students are diligently at work, focused on their recipe. Hermione could get used to this.

It’s because it’s so quiet that what happens next startles everyone so much. A sudden loud retching noise comes from the front of the classroom and Hermione looks up in time to see a fellow Gryffindor girl bend over and throw up into her cauldron.

The whole class is shocked, and the silence that ensues is conspicuous. The girl sitting beside the sick girl immediately leans over, a hand on her friend’s back.

“Are you okay?” she whispers.

The girl shakes her head and throws up again.

This time, Hermione hears a few students groan quietly in disgust. Beside her, James and Sirius start snickering under their breaths.

“At least if she brewed her potion right, it’ll clean itself out,” Sirius mutters to James, who tries to stifle a laugh.

“Shut up,” Hermione hisses at them.

“Miss Polluck, please accompany Miss Bailey to the infirmary before her cauldron overflows.”

“Y-yes, Professor!” Polluck jumps off her stool and steers Bailey away from their table. They make it to the front door before Bailey retches again, this time all over the floor and her shoes.

She gasps. “I-I’m s-sorry,” she cries. Hermione can hear the tears in her voice. Poor girl.

Slughorn conjures up a bucket and levitates it over to Bailey, who clutches it to her chest, head bent over it. Polluck steers her out of the room quickly, just in time to take Bailey out of earshot as the sixth year students explode into laughter.

Hermione stares at those laughing, anger building up inside of her. The poor girl won’t hear the end of it for a long time, she knows. She still feels some people eyeing her and smirking when she crosses paths with them and what she did was nowhere near as embarrassing as this.

A vaguely-familiar face catches Hermione’s eye on the Slytherin side of the room: a lanky boy with a hooked nose and limp, black hair. Severus Snape? Hermione’s voice catches in her throat. He’s not laughing outright like the others around him, but he’s smirking, a look that Hermione knows only too well despite the fact that he’s so much younger. He’s proud of himself.

That evening, at dinner, two more girls throw up. They’re from Ravenclaw and Hermione recognizes them as fifth year students she had classes with during the week before.

“Bugger, looks like there’s some sickness going around,” James says after the commotion has died down and the two girls have been escorted to the infirmary. He looks pointedly at Sirius. “Don’t you dare catch it. I need you at the try-outs.”

Sirius chuckles. “I’ll try my best to keep myself from snogging the infected, then. Damn you, Potter.”

“Would it kill you two to show some compassion?” Lily snaps. Hermione can tell she’s been wanting to tell them off ever since Potions class.

“Of course not, but it sure would kill our fun.”

“And you do know our fun is our sustenance, Evans, so maybe perhaps it would kill us, metaphorically,” Sirius adds, not to be outdone by his best friend.

Lily glares at them as if unable to believe how callous they can be. “You two are unbelievable.”

“It’s true, we are.”

As promised, after dinner, James gets his textbooks for Hermione to charm. Everyone stands back in the off-chance that Hermione messes up and the books explode – no one likes a paper cut after all – but thankfully Hermione casts the spell properly and a double of each book appears. It’s a relief to know she finally has her own copies. She decides to bring the library books back to Madam Pince right away, who seems annoyed that it took so long for Hermione to return them more than grateful for the pristine condition which they’re still in.

When Hermione returns to the common room, James and Peter are no longer there. Hermione only sees Sirius and Remus in their usual spot. She’s about to go and join them when she takes a closer look. They’re standing closely, obviously deep in conversation. They’re speaking in low voices, and while Hermione can’t hear them across the room with the other students talking normally around her, she can see that their discussion is not a pleasant one.

Sirius looks agitated, stabbing his finger into his palm as if to mark a point. Remus looks just as frustrated, though he doesn’t seem to be as worked up.

Hermione is about to go find another place to sit and start on her homework when suddenly Sirius looks up and over, as if sensing he was being watched. Their eyes lock and Hermione quickly looks away, heart beating. She wasn’t eavesdropping or planning on intruding on their conversation, but she feels as guilty as if she had been. Sirius was clearly not pleased to see her looking their way.

“Was Madam Pince pleased to have her books returned?” Remus’ voice startles Hermione. He’s left Sirius by the fireplace, who is now sitting on the couch with his back to them.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stop your conversation.”

“We weren’t talking about much. Actually, I was waiting for you to study.”

“Sirius looks angry. Are you sure it’s okay?”

Remus looks over his shoulder at Sirius. He sighs. “Don’t mind Sirius. He’s upset because James and he want to sneak out to go play midnight Quidditch.”

Hermione laughs. These Marauders are everything she’s ever heard about them, and more. “Midnight Quidditch, really?”

Remus gives her a small smile. It’s these little smiles that make Hermione realize just how rarely Remus actually does smile, or laugh for that matter.

“They do it every year before the Quidditch try-outs. They did it the first year they both tried out for the team. They both made the team and they had a really good year, so now they’re convinced it’s a good luck charm or something.”

Hermione knows she hasn’t been invited to this midnight party but recklessly she leans forward and puts her hand on Remus’ arm. “If it’s a good luck ritual, you have no choice,” she says, jokingly. “Let’s do it!”

This is how Hermione finds herself, hours past curfew, standing on the Quidditch pitch watching James and Sirius pass the Quaffle back and forth.

Beside her, Lily is talking and laughing with Remus. Hermione still isn’t quite sure how they got Lily to come along, only that perhaps she got swept up in the moment like Hermione did. They had waited in the common room, pretending to study, until everyone else had gone off to bed. They were going to cast Disillusionment spells on themselves before leaving the common room but Lily had walked in then, relieved from her Prefect duties.

“What’s going on?” she’d asked, noticing how they were bundled up and obviously not about to head off to bed. “You guys better not be thinking about sneaking out!”

“Watch us,” Sirius had snapped. He’d kept his bad mood all evening, refusing to look at Hermione or Remus.

“We’re also kidnapping your new best friend.” James had put an unauthorized arm around Hermione’s shoulders. “I suppose you’ll just have to come along to make sure she doesn’t get into any trouble… Anymore trouble, that is.”

Hermione had given Lily her most apologetic look as she’d let James lead her to the portrait, but then she’d heard Lily curse under her breath and cast the charm over herself to follow them out.

Now, here they are. Actually having fun. The brooms and a Quidditch set – Sirius’ he’d brought with him to school – are already on the pitch, giving Hermione an idea of what James and Peter had been up to earlier that evening.

Peter is gushing at Sirius and James’ talents on their brooms. He claps and calls out praise whenever they make a catch. Pathetic. Hermione moves away from him and closer to Remus and Lily.

“Aren’t you going to join them?” Hermione asks Remus. To her knowledge, Remus didn’t play on the Gryffindor team, but there is so much that Hermione doesn’t know about all of them.

Remus laughs. “Me on a broom? Wouldn’t that be a sight! I’ll stay down here with my feet firmly on the ground, thanks.”

Hermione grins, sympathizing completely with his attitude. If there is one thing Hermione Granger doesn’t do, it’s heights.

“Maybe Gabi could make a couple copies of that book for us?” Lily asks, teasingly. “I didn’t even think about bringing something to entertain myself with.”

“We’re all together, what more entertainment do you need?!” Hermione exclaims. The fresh air feels so good. There’s a soft breeze, and although it’s mid-September it’s not as cold as it was when she was at Hogsmeade with James at the beginning of the week. There’s something calming about the night.

“Seems like Granger is good at more than just acing exams and casting difficult spells.” The way Remus says this sounds like a great compliment instead of mocking. “I wouldn’t be here either if it hadn’t been fo-” Remus lets out a grunt and stumbles forward a few feet when the Quaffle suddenly comes down, hitting him in the side.

Hermione looks up at the boys in the air. James is laughing but Sirius looks much grimmer. “Sorry,” he calls down to Remus, though in Hermione’s opinion he doesn’t sound the least bit sorry at all. “Bad aim.”

Remus picks up the Quaffle and then looks up at Sirius. For a second, it looks like the two of them are having a silent argument.

“If you have such bad aim, maybe James should hold try-outs for your position,” Remus jokes bitterly.

“Just toss the Quaffle back up, Lupin,” Sirius snaps. Remus complies but Hermione shares a glance with Lily. The exchange didn’t sound particularly friendly at all. Hermione wonders if the two had been arguing about more than just coming out tonight earlier that evening.

Hermione doesn’t get to ask. She doesn’t even get to ask if Remus is alright, because all of the sudden Hermione feels herself getting pulled backwards.

James has swooped down behind her, and with one strong tug of his arm he’s pulled Hermione back onto the broom with him, sitting sidesaddle, and kicked off the ground again before Hermione can react.

Fright seizes Hermione immediately. Her throat clenches up and her brain freezes. For a few moments Hermione can’t think of anything but of how high up they are. The pitch below them grows smaller and smaller and smaller… and that’s when Hermione’s mind kicks back and the reality hits her harder than a Bludger to the chest.

“JAMES POTTER, YOU PUT ME DOWN THIS INSTANT!” Hermione shrieks when she regains the ability to think and speak. She screws her eyes shut and tries not to think about how high up they are, how fast they’re moving, how her feet are just dangling in the air, how only a scrawny tree branch is all that’s beneath Hermione and a very painful, potentially fatal fall…

“Do you hear me?!” Hermione screams. “Land this broom right now or I swear to Merlin I will make you regret this for a very, very long time!”

Hermione feels the ground beneath her feet before she even realizes they’ve landed. She hadn’t even felt James dive. Hermione heart is hammering and she’s not sure her knees will support her full weight, but she jumps off of the broom as if it had stung her behind.

“How dare you-” Hermione begins, turning to unleash her fury on James when something catches her eye.

Sirius, Remus and Peter are standing in a half-circle around Lily. James landed them just a few feet away and Hermione can see the panic on Lily’s face plainly.

“I think something’s wrong. Come on.”

Hermione hurries to Lily. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“I… I tried to cast the Impervius spell,” Lily says. “But… I couldn’t.”

It’s only then that Hermione realizes it’s drizzling. In her terror she hadn’t noticed. She wonders just how long she was in the air with James for. Her panic threw off her sense of time completely.

Hermione frowns. The umbrella spell is easy, one of the basics they learn in third year. Hermione walks ten paces away from Lily and puts her wand on the ground. “Try bringing my wand to you.”

Lily takes a moment to calm herself and to focus on the spell she’s about to perform. “Accio.” She points her wand at Hermione’s and speaks in a clear, controlled voice. It’s the perfect spell-casting tone. The word is clearly enunciated and the intent is clear in her voice.

Regardless, Hermione’s wand lifts only a few inches in the air, hovers, moves forward weakly, and then falls back to the ground.

A stunned silence falls over the group. Finally, Hermione picks up her wand and pockets it. “We need to go see Professor McGonagall.” Lily is a good witch. Hermione’s seen her perform many spells much harder than these when she was helping Hermione study. Something is obviously wrong.

“No, we can’t do that.” Sirius is the first to speak up. He looks from Lily to Hermione, and then to James. “It’s hours past curfew, and well, we kind of have a reputation. If we turn ourselves in we could get in serious trouble.”

Anger surges through Hermione. Suddenly, their troublemaking ways are not so endearing. “Lily’s problems are more important than a few House Points, “she spits out, disgusted with Sirius.

“It’s not about House Points.” At least Sirius has the decency to look contrite. “Me and James could get kicked off the Quidditch team.”

“So what?” Hermione wants to reply, but she checks herself just in time. She knows how much Quidditch means to students, especially those on the team. “Fine,” she hisses in a vain attempt to control her temper. “I’ll go with Lily myself.”

“That’s probably not such a great idea, Granger.” This time, it’s James who speaks up. “Lily’s a Prefect. How are you going to explain that you convinced her to break the rules? It’ll make you look bad and Lily incompetent as a Prefect.”

Despite herself, Hermione knows his words make sense.

“They’re right, Gabi,” Lily speaks up for the first time, softly. Hermione can hear the fear in her voice. “Nothing good will come out of going to see a professor at this hour. Let’s wait until morning.”

“Maybe you’ll feel better in the morning,” Peter speaks up. “Maybe you’re just tired.”

Hermione knows from the way they all exchange looks that no one really believes that.

Once they’ve made their way back to their dorms, Hermione hugs Lily. She’s never been one for allowing other people into her private space, especially not another girl, but it happens naturally. They sneak into their dorm room, and just when they’re about to sneak into their respective beds Hermione steps forward and pulls Lily close to her. Lily hugs her back, tightly, like this is what she needed.

“Things will be better in the morning,” Hermione whispers. “Professor McGonagall will know what to do.”

Lily smiles and nods when she pulls away. “Yes, I’m sure she will.”

And, both trying their hardest to believe this, they crawl into their beds.

Chapter Text

The morning doesn’t bring better things.

Hermione is woken up at dawn by some commotion in the dorm. Her mind is still heavy with sleep and she’s about to close her eyes and just drift off again when one of the girls shrieks.

“Oh my god, Janna!”

Hermione throws back the covers and jumps out of bed. Lily and four of the girls from the dorm are crowded around Janna’s bed, but not too close – there’s a chunky, off-yellow puddle at the foot of Janna’s bed. Janna’s head is leaning over the side of the bed and she lets out a painful groan.

“She woke me up about ten minutes ago,” Lily says when she notices Hermione up. “Apparently she’d been screaming in her sleep and then she just leaned over and threw up everywhere.”

Hermione has to fight to keep herself from throwing up too. The stench only hits her now, but it’s overpowering. “Get her to the infirmary,” Hermione tells the girl, the one whose voice had woken her up. Hermione tries hard to think of her name but can’t remember it. She doesn’t know the name of any of the girls in her dorm except Lily.

The girl nods and Hermione gets her wand from her bedside dresser and cleans up the mess. The other girls help Janna out of bed and disappear from the room.

Hermione wonders if she should go back to bed. A quick glance at the clock tells her that she’d only been asleep for three hours. She’s about to suggest as much to Lily when one of the girls comes back.

“You guys better come down. It’s chaos in the common room.”

It looks like every single Gryffindor girl is awake and in the common room, and they’re all panicking. Hermione notices a few crying and one is apparently having an asthma attack, but they’re all talking loudly and quickly in panic.

“What in the world is going on?”

One of the girls hears Lily and shakes her head. “Something bad. Clara is in bed with such a high fever we can’t even get her to stand up to walk to the infirmary, and apparently two other girls were taken there in the night.”

“Goodness, that’s quite the fever bug,” Lily mutters, but the girl looks doubtful.

“I’m not sure. When Petra came back she said that those other girls who got sick yesterday are still there. What kind of fever bug is so strong that one of Madame Pomfrey’s potions can’t, like, wipe out overnight?”

The girl has a point. Madame Pomfrey isn’t likely to be outdone by a mere fever. Unless perhaps this isn’t one.

But the girl is quite the gossip and she steps closer to Lily and Hermione. The room is a cacophony of hysterical girls, but she still doesn’t want any of them to listen in. “And I’ve overheard a few girls talking about how they’ve been having trouble casting spells lately. They haven’t spoken up because they don’t want the professors thinking they’re, like, incompetent or anything, but even simple spells have gotten out of hand. You know what I think?” The girl looks around them and then mouths ‘Dark Magic.’

“Don’t be a fool,” Lily snaps, maybe a bit too harshly. The girl’s eyes widen and she takes a step back. “Of course fever causes diminished magical abilities. The body is tired and too focused on fighting the disease to concentrate properly on magic.”

“That’s just the thing, though,” the girl stubbornly persists. “Those girls haven’t, like, shown any signs of fevers. Cool as cucumbers.”

The portrait swings open just then and Hermione looks up, hoping it’s the girl who took Janna to the infirmary – one of Lily’s kind of friends – so she can tell them more about the condition of the girls. But it’s not Lily’s friend, it’s Professor McGonagall.

“What in the world is the meaning of this?” she shouts. The ruckus had started to subside the moment she walked in but the girls who didn’t notice before hear her voice and immediately fall silent. Even one of the girls crying on the couch stops in mid-hiccup.

“A few more girls have fallen ill,” Hermione speaks up when no one else does. “We’re just worried as to the cause of the illness.”

“Well cease your worrying this instant,” McGonagall retorts, voice dry, though she thankfully directs this remark to the whole room. Her gaze lands on a girl still crying silently in the corner and she purses her lips at the sight. “Your friends are in good hands.” Her voice is a bit softer now. “Madame Pomfrey is the most competent Healer in the country and will return the girls when she deems them healthy.”

No one dares ask why it’s taking so long to cure a mere fever.

“Now, are there any questions?”

Some girls shake their heads ‘no’ so quickly that Hermione is afraid their necks will snap.

“Good. Now all of you- Yes, Miss Castor?” McGonagall sounds annoyed to see the hand of the girl by Hermione tentatively rise into the air.

“W-well, it’s just that Clara is really ill but we can’t get her up to, you know, like, bring her to the infirmary. Professor,” she adds quickly.

McGonagall sighs. “Very well. I will see that Miss Richy makes it to the infirmary. The rest of you, back to bed.”

News of the night’s commotion has spread faster than the disease itself, and by the time Lily and Hermione make it to breakfast the next morning – late and still exhausted – everyone is talking about it.

“McGonagall levitated Clara to the infirmary last night.” Hermione hears the girl from last night, something Castor, telling her friends at the Ravenclaw table when they walk into the Great Hall. “It was so cool!”

At the Gryffindor table, however, the enthusiasm is much less. Hermione catches snippets of information as she sits on the bench by Remus. No one in the infirmary is getting better, Madame Pomfrey had to conjure up more beds to accommodate all of the sick, that Madame Pomfrey is at a total loss and none of her potions are having any effect. Hermione wonders how many of these are only speculations and rumor.

“The fevers aren’t just contained to Gryffindors,” James is saying. “Apparently a few Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs are sick as well. Only Slytherin has been immune so far.”

“You two missed the announcement,” Sirius says across the table, sitting beside James, “but the morning classes have just been cancelled.”

Lily’s eyebrows shoot up. “Maybe Madame Pomfrey isn’t as confident in curing this epidemic as Professor McGonagall tried to make us believe last night.”

“Have you gone to see the old bat?” James asks Lily, actual concern in his voice. “About… you know.”

Hermione and Lily exchange a look. They’d talked about it this morning before coming down for breakfast. “No,” Lily admits slowly. “Apparently, I’m not the only one it’s happened to. We’re thinking it may be linked to the fevers.”

“Magical loss to that degree is not common, even with a high fever,” Remus says.

The whole group jumps when Sirius slams his fist down on the table. Peter had been about to take a gulp of his drink and spills the orange juice all over his chest when he startles.

“Potion-resistant fever? Magical loss? You know what this sounds like to me? Dark Magic.”

“I know most of the girls who’re in the infirmary,” Lily says, slowly, as if her thoughts are only coming to her now. “They’re almost all Muggle-born. Only Janna isn’t, but she’s a Half-blood and her dad is a Squib.”

“The Slytherin are immune, huh?” Sirius’ voice sounds like a snarl. He’s balled up the hand resting on the table into a fist, his fingers turning white. “Those bloody fucking Pure-blood fanatics!”

“Snivellus,” James and Sirius spit out at the same time.

“No-good, dirty, greasy hairball,” James adds.

“Now wait a second!” Lily snaps. Hermione turns to look at her and is surprised by the rage in her face and the hate she directs at Sirius and James. “You can’t just go accusing people with no basis or solid proof.”

“Oh, get off your high horse, Evans.” This is quickly turning from mere speculation into something personal. “How can you still defend that bastard after what he called you?”

“I’m not defending him. I’m just saying you can’t target him and his friends just because you don’t like them. You don’t know it’s them.”

“He’s been going around calling people Mudbloods and using that slashing curse of his on Muggle-borns since you dumped his sorry arse.” Sirius’ voice is mounting out of control, but then James puts a hand on his arm and he lowers his voice again. “It’s them. I know it’s them. I can feel it.”

“You just want any excuse to make them suffer,” Lily snaps, unconvinced.

“Stop it, the three of you!” Hermione finally intervenes. Her head is spinning and she doesn’t understand a word of what they’re talking about, but she doesn’t have to. Snape and his friends may not have become Death Eaters yet but she still knows better than the five of them what they’re capable of. “Lily’s right, we can’t just go around accusing them of anything until we’re sure. But,” she throws Lily an apologetic smile, “it does smell like Dark Magic. And the Muggle-born victims make me think it’s a Pure-blood ruse as well.”

“I agree,” Remus says quietly. “They’re making people suffer for being different. And it’s not right.”

“No, it’s not,” Hermione agrees. She thinks of how Snape persecuted Remus in Hermione’s third year and she feels her heart go out to him. He’s had to put up this a thousand times over, in his childhood, now at Hogwarts, and again later when he’ll enter the workforce after Voldemort’s fall. “But how can a group of sixth year students come up with a spell or a potion strong enough to baffle the whole faculty?”

“Well, Snivellus is pretty good at potions,” Sirius admits. The words come out painfully, like something in him dies at having to admit that.

“Good enough to pull the veil over Madame Pomfrey?” Hermione shakes her head.

“You-Know-Who.” Hermione is surprised to hear Peter speak. He’s been quietly following the conversation up until now. “They’ve all been boasting about how they can join him in another year. What if they already have?”

Hermione feels sick to her stomach. Can she never escape Voldemort’s toxic influence? Another thought hits her then; has Peter already joined their ranks? What if he’s laughing inside at their sorry attempts to figure everything out? If Hermione had wanted to hurt him before it’s nothing to the nearly over-powering desire to do so now.

Her brain kicks into research mode, already begin to scroll through the Dark Magic spells that may fit the known symptoms. The only way she’ll feel better is if they manage to put a stop to this. “We’ll have to somehow listen in on their conversations, to see to what extent they’re actually involved in this.”

“We have to solve this?” Peter squeaks.

“Alright,” Sirius grins. “I like how you think. Let’s get some dirt on these scumbags and take them down!”

“Gabi, what makes you think we’ll be able to do anything more if Professor McGonagall or Madame Promfrey… or even Professor Dumbledore, can’t?”

Hermione shakes her head. “If students are involved in this it’ll be the last place any of them look. Professor Dumbledore wants to believe the best in all of his students, and by the time the adults acknowledge that they have to begin questioning us it’ll be too late.” Hermione turns to Sirius, caught up in her thoughts on how to plan their best course of action. “If you can incapacitate three members of their group I can make a batch of Polyjuice potion and…” Hermione trails off when Sirius rolls his eyes and scoffs. James shoots him a look but Hermione already feels like a moron. Oh. Right. Of course they don’t need any of that stuff.

“Just leave the field recon to us, Granger. You two,” he nods at Lily, “can be the research team. Hit the books.”

“I’ll be on the research team, too.” Sirius shoots Remus a dark look but Remus only shrugs. “I won’t be of much help spying.”

“Suit yourself,” Sirius grumbles.

They’ve all finished their breakfasts so they agree to meet up at lunch and swap information.

“Evans, Professor Dumbledore wants all Prefects to stay behind.”

“Oh great,” Lily sighs. “We’ll probably spend the whole morning calming down homesick first years. We’ll meet you in the library as soon as we can, Gabi.”

Hermione smiled sympathetically. She does not envy them that task. “No problem, I’ll get a head start.”

Hermione doesn’t notice James follow her out of the Great Hall until she feels a hand on her shoulder.

“Hey,” he grins, but there’s a tilt to his smile that Hermione hasn’t seen before. Is he nervous? “I know the situation is pretty dire and all right now, but we could totally hang out later? Maybe have a picn—”

“Absolutely not!” Hermione’s anger from last night, temporarily cast away in light of what had happened but not forgotten, comes surging back. She shudders at the memory of that horrible feeling of being lifted up and defying gravity, like her stomach is floating unanchored from her body. “And don’t you dare sweep me off my feet like that ever again!”

The timid tilt in James’ smile is gone, but not the smile itself. Hermione wonders if he even understands rejection. “So,” he draws out the word, and Hermione knows she won’t like what she’s about to hear. “Does this mean I can sweep you off your feet in a different way?”

He is just too cocky! Hermione throws her hands up and lets out of a frustrated “Argh!” Then she turns on her heel and stomps away.

She so doesn’t have time for this right now.

Hermione stops by the common room first to grab some writing material – three rolls of parchment, ink and a quill – before heading over to the library. With classes having been cancelled the library is busier than usual, but Hermione makes a beeline for the Magical Illnesses section. It’s one of the last aisles buried in the back, by the Restricted Section, where rarely anyone ever ventures except for a quick snogging session.

She inspects the spines as she walks down the aisle, pulling a book off the shelf when the title sounds promising. She inspects the table of contents and either adds it to the growing stack of books floating along behind her or puts it back on the shelf. She’s halfway down the aisle when she sees the title Time Travelling and Magical Illnesses: The Hope of a Better Past. Hermione’s pulse races with excitement. She eagerly grabs the book off the shelf and makes for the little table at the end of the aisle. This is Hermione’s favorite place to study since students never come back this far. It’s large enough to seat four, but since Hermione is usually there alone, or with Lily, she can spread out and take as much room as she needs.

She lets the levitated books down gently on the table and then attacks the tome in her hands.

Nothing.

It turns out to be one long, boring lecture about the risks of bringing newly-discovered cures to the past to try and save loved ones. There’s nothing about anyone going too far back in time and getting stuck there, nothing about a time-turner malfunctioning. Hermione is disgustedly disappointed and she returns the book to the shelf with a heavy heart.

Hermione is starting on the second book on Magical Illnesses when Remus finds her. He sits without a word and grabs the topmost book off of Hermione’s research pile.

They study quietly like that for an hour. Hermione closes the book and stretches out her legs, and then she stands to get the blood flow moving back through her body. She knows that taking regular breaks of five minutes or so is recommended when sitting for so long, but Hermione usually loses track of time when she’s studying.

She paces the nearest aisle and returns just as Remus is closing his first book. “Nothing useful,” he reports with a long sigh.

Hermione sits back down. “Where’s Lily?”

“They broke us up into different groups. So far no one else has fallen sick, but no one seems to be getting better, either. Taking care of all of the sick students is too much work for Madame Pomfrey on her own so we’re operating on a rotating system until further notice. Lily is on until lunch and then she’ll be relieved by another group. I’m after dinner. A few students came forward and told Professor Dumbledore about their loss of magical abilities so they’ve been put into a separate ward for now.”

“They didn’t isolate Lily?”

“She didn’t say anything was wrong with her. She doesn’t want to be useless.”

Hermione smiles softly. She can understand that feeling. She picks up the next book off of the pile and runs her finger down the cover. “How do you think they’ll do it? Without the Polyjuice?”

Remus shrugs. “Sirius and James are very innovative when they put their minds to it. They’ll think of something clever.”

Hermione smiles – answering her without actually saying anything. She didn’t really think Remus would tell her about their animagus forms, but she wanted to test his abilities to avoid the subject. He certainly has had a lot of practice. She wonders if, as a Prefect, he uses it a lot on Professor McGonagall or Professor Dumbledore when he’s unable to restrain his friends from causing trouble: dismissively praising when he knows they’re up to something but he wasn’t there so he can’t be held accountable for not stopping them. It’s a clever tactic.

She watches Remus open his next book and she speaks up without thinking. “Sirius doesn’t seem to like me very much.”

Remus shrugs, not even looking up from his book. “Sirius has trust issues and you’re a newcomer. He’s suspicious. He’ll warm up to you, already has. He likes that you want to crack this case.” He’s starting to read and Hermione needs to act fast before he gets too absorbed in the words.

“Well,” she tries to sound pensive, dismissive, like her words aren’t too weighted or loaded. “I suppose you’d know him best. You two seem closer than you are with James.”

Hermione’s operating on a hunch – the heads bent close together, the laughter, the bickering, the sudden seating change – but the way Remus suddenly looks up from his book sends a thrill through Hermione. He doesn’t look embarrassed but he looks uncomfortable. This could mean so many things. “James and Sirius are best friends.”

Hermione nods like she believes him. And she does believe him. But James and Sirius being best friends doesn’t refute her statement either. Remus is clever like that. But Hermione is clever too. “Of course.” She smiles to placate him. Remus looks at her for a little bit longer, then nods and returns to his book. Hermione chews the inside of her lip to keep herself from grinning. She will get to the bottom of this mystery, she vows.

They study without speaking again right up until lunchtime.

Chapter Text

“We got nothing either.”

The five of them sit, dejected, at the table, picking absently at their food.

“They went and booked the Quidditch pitch and held their tryouts. Man, they’re going to have a lousy team this year.”

“Don’t rejoice just yet, Prongs, we still have four slots to fill on our team.”

“Did you just call Potter Prongs?”

James blinks at her. “Yeah, so what of it?”

Lily giggles. “Do you even know what prongs are?”

Sirius glares at her, not appreciating the nickname being mocked. “We’re using it in a more metaphorical sense, Evans.”

Lily keeps laughing. “Uh huh, sure you are.” Beside her, Hermione sees Remus trying to hide a half-smile.

“Guy! Come on, focus,” Hermione intervenes before Sirius can lose his temper or they start debating the etymology of the word and if it’s an appropriate nickname or not.

“Sorry, Granger,” James elbows Sirius in the arm and thankfully Sirius seems to relent, for now. “We’ll double our efforts tonight.” James smiles at her and Hermione feels something inside her liquefy. She quickly nods and stares down at her food.

She doesn’t know what to make of James blasted Potter. He was so angry when she refused to hold his hand at Hogsmeade, and yet after avoiding her for a few days he suddenly reappeared, acting like nothing had happened. Now, in class, he’ll turn around to ask her some bogus question she knows he knows the answer to and then he’ll wink at her like she’s saving him from certain failure before turning around.

“Oh, yeah,” Lily is saying as Hermione’s mind races on about James. “So what’s the plan, then? You’ll just sneak into the common room and hang out trying to look inconspicuous? I’m sure you’ll blend right in.” Her voice is laced with bitter sarcasm but Hermione can’t blame her. She doesn’t know Sirius can turn into a dog or Peter into a rat, the perfect spy form. If she had been oblivious to these facts Hermione may have been skeptical as well. That or she would have assumed Sirius was brewing up a batch of Polyjuice potion on the side, hiding it to save face about pretending not to have needed it in the first place.

As it is, Sirius just glares at Lily. “We have our ways, Evans.”

Lily is about to make a snapping retort when Dumbledore stands and everyone falls silent. He tells them that the afternoon classes will take place as normal but that “should anyone start feeling nauseous or woozy, to immediately head to the infirmary or the nearest professor.”

“Woozy?” Hermione hears a younger Gryffindor girl whisper to her friend.

Hermione and Lily leave the Great Hall first. They have an elective class together that none of the other boys chose and Hermione is glad to get away from the tense atmosphere between James, Sirius and Lily.

“You should turn yourself in,” Hermione says as they walk to their class. She’s been thinking about this on and off since the chaos of the other night. “You could be putting yourself in danger, for all we know.”

Lily is still in a bad mood from her confrontation with Sirius, though, and she sends Hermione a withering look. “No one can even figure out what’s wrong with us. What good will being locked up in a room with blubbering students do me? If it was you, would you turn yourself in and sit twiddling your thumbs uselessly?”

“No,” Hermione admits, though reluctantly. “No, I wouldn’t.”

“Good. Then it’s settled.”

That evening, Remus heads off to his Prefect duties while Lily and Hermione head up to the library. Hermione had asked Madam Pince not to put away her pile of books and she’s pleased to see them untouched.

“You know, there’s a spell that I use to transform the chairs into poufs when I’m doing research.”

“Really?” Hermione is surprised at the subtle but genius idea. She has never thought of that, herself. She waits patiently for Lily to perform the spell on the two chairs before she remembers. “If you want to show me how it’s done, I can do the spell. For the time being.”

Lily smiles, though it’s a sad smile, Hermione thinks, and shows Hermione the hand gesture and tells her the incantation.

Hermione concentrates and transforms both chairs. The two wooden and highly uncomfortable chairs morph into two large purple and squishy poufs before their very eyes. Hermione is marveled. “I shall always use this spell now! Where did you find it? I’ve never come across it and I’ve read every transfiguration textbook there is!” Of course, that’s not entirely true, there being thousands of books in the library. But Hermione has certainly read the most important ones, as well as the dictionary of spells, at least once.

Lily blushes. “Actually, I invented it. In third year, I think? My bum was really getting sore from sitting on those chairs all day and I always had to stand up and go to the loo to massage my butt to get the blood flowing again.”

"That's so awesome." That's all Hermione has to say. Hermione remembers the first spell she ever invented in her first years at Hogwarts; but Lily's spell is useful beyond words. When she returns to her timeline, Hermione swears to herself that she will honor Lily's memory and make this amazing spell known to all.

They settle down in their respective poufs and dig into their books.

A few breaks and hours later, Lily slams her book shut in frustration. “Nothing!”

Hermione puts her book aside and rubs her eyes. She’s getting tired and the library will be closing soon. “This is useless,” she agrees. “We need books on Dark Magic, not generic magical illnesses.”

Lily shakes her head. “There’s no way. We’d need to get special permission for the Restricted Section and even then Madam Pince documents which books we consult. We’d get caught before even opening the cover.”

Hermione chews the inside of her cheek. To her, the answer is quite clear. “We’ll have to break in.”

When Lily doesn’t reply, Hermione looks over at her and is surprised to see Lily staring at her, slack-jawed. Hermione blushes. She’s not used to such a reaction. Harry and Ron sure have been bad influences, Hermione thinks, relatively amused.

“No way. No way!” Lily sputters out when she finally regains brain functionality. “Do you realize how much trouble we’d get into? And I’m a Prefect; I can’t be enabling this sort of behavior.”

Hermione thinks of her own Prefect badge that she’d buried at the bottom of her trunk.

“Where are you going?” Lily asks when Hermione puts her unfinished book back on the table.

“As far as you know, to bed.”

Hermione finds James in the common room. He has his chair tilted back so that the two front legs are off the ground and the back rests against the wall, his feet on the table ahead of him. Hermione can’t help but think that not only is this a very precarious position to be sitting in, it also looks highly uncomfortable.

He’s reading a Quidditch magazine. Hermione sees the white letters “Puddlemere United’s Unexpected Comeback!” dancing on the cover, and a wizard proudly holding a flapping Golden Snitch that he’s showcasing to the audience or whoever took the photograph.

James sees Hermione coming and he immediately tilts the chair down so that his feet are on the floor and he tosses the magazine on the table.

“Your field recon looks very tiring,” Hermione quips playfully. She feels rather awkward being alone with James. The common room is fully packed at this time of night, but Sirius and Remus as conspicuously absent.

James grins up at her. “I work in mysterious ways, Granger.”

Hermione rolls her eyes. Poor James, she thinks. It’s not like a stag is the most subtle spying disguise inside the castle. Still, she wonders why he didn’t tag along under the invisibility cloak.

“Well, I need you,” Hermione says and then blushes furiously when James stares at her in disbelief and the words register in her brain. “I mean, I need your help. Your help! And your invisibility cloak.” She lowers her voice. “We need to get into the Restricted Section to look up books on Dark Magic.”

Hermione expects James to jump up, enthusiastic about the promise of breaking more school rules, but instead he stays down and he’s frowning. “How do you know about my invisibility cloak?”

Hermione falters. Shit. “Remus. He, um, mentioned it while we were studying, earlier. I don’t know, it just came up,” she gives him a weak and totally unconvincing smile.

“Right,” James says slowly, and Hermione thinks he’s going to call her bluff – state, quite rightly, that Remus would never give up that information to someone he barely knows. But, instead, James grins again, easily, like all suspicions have been appeased. “You’re quite the little rebel, aren’t you?” His voice sounds much too fond by half and Hermione rolls her eyes. After the Hogsmeade incident Hermione’s senses have been on high alert around James and she hears every intonation and sees every shifting muscle in his expressions.

“Are you going to help me, or not?”

“Of course, I’m your man.” He jumps up but Hermione waves him down.

“Not now. The common room’s packed and besides, the library isn’t even closed yet. Meet back down here at midnight?”

“It’s a date,” James grins.

“No, it’s not,” Hermione replies, right away, red flags waving around in her mind. “It’s a research mission.”

“Semantics.” It’s James’ turn to roll his eyes. “Meet you back here in a few then, Granger. Don’t be late.”

James is late.

“Sorry, sorry!” he hisses when he finally joins Hermione in the common room and sees how annoyed she is. “I totally forgot I’d lent the cloak to Peter for, well, a personal project, and you wouldn’t believe what a mess his trunk is. It was carelessly stuffed between his dirty socks and a jar of jam with the lid barely even screwed on. I am never letting him borrow my cloak again, the bugger.”

Hermione sighs impatiently and grabs the cloak from James’ hands. She’s tense and James’ rambling isn’t helping. She may have become used to violating school rules but that doesn’t mean she enjoys doing so. Add that to having to press up against James as they walk under the invisibility cloak, and well, her nerves are even more in overdrive than they usually are. Every creak of the old school makes her paranoia soar. They pass Professor Flitwick and the Hufflepuff Head Girl on the way, and Hermione is terrified they’ll hear her breathing through her mouth and bust them.

James’ presence is both a reassurance and a torment. On the one hand, she’s glad not to be alone, but on the other she can feel his body next to hers and every time she startles he places the tips of his fingers against the small of her back. Hermione hates that this actually calms her down every single time.

Finally, they make it to the library, thankfully undetected, and slip past the rope sectioning off the Restricted Section.

Hermione isn’t entirely sure how the Restricted Section is organized so they browse the first few shelves, but nothing stands out as Dark Magic. Many Ministerial records of Wizengamot transcripts are there, which makes Hermione extremely curious to know why they’re in the Restricted Section but she pushes forward, knowing that now is not the time.

They’re in the second aisle when a word catches her eye – Time-Travelling, the title reads. Hermione stops short. What in the world is a book on time-turners, of all things, doing in the Restricted Section?

James steps on her heel, not having expected her to stop. “Did you find a book?” He’s whispering, but his mouth is so close to her ear that he sounds loud and the closeness of his lips tickles her ear, even though they’re not even touching.

“I thought I did,” she whispers back, forcing herself to look away from the book in case James suddenly follows her gaze. She needs to get her hands on that book!

She can’t though, not with James here. He would ask questions and now is the most inappropriate time to start casually reading up on one’s interests. “False alert,” she says. She feels like she’s practically yelling at herself to read the book in her mind and she’s afraid James will be able to read her thoughts.

“These all look like autobiographies anyway. I think Dark Magic books are further back, like fourth or fifth row.”

“That’s awfully precise,” Hermione mutters as she lets James lead the way.

“Got permission in fourth year. Remus and I were assigned a project in DADA and Remus could get an unlimited pass to this place if he wanted. Professors love him. Anyway, there’s so much juicy stuff in here.”

“What about the tracing spell Madam Pince puts on you when you get permission?”

James snorts. It sounds loud, like a gunshot and Hermione jabs him in ribs.

“Ow! Anyway, where did you hear that? Total rubbish! It’s a rumor started by some ponce a hundred years back to scare students into obedience. If there was a tracing spell, you could bet your gorgeous ass there’d be one on the books themselves.”

Hermione jabs James in the ribs again, harder this time, but realizes he’s right. She remembers tricking Lockhart into signing the permission slip in second year when she needed to get her hands on that Polyjuice recipe.

They decide to take the invisibility cloak off when they reach the Dark Arts section. It’s massive. Hermione’s heart drops. There’s no way they’ll be able to read through everything in one visit. Heck, not even three whole days of doing nothing but reading through the books would make a dent in the selection! They’ll have to pick their titles carefully.

Hermione pulls out the parchment and quill she brought for the assignment and is secretly thrilled when she sees that James thought to do the same. He may act like an immature prat half the time, but his heart and head seem to be in the right place, at least.

They work in total absorbed silence for a long while. A few times, Hermione feels herself drifting off while standing up. Words begin to blur and she finds herself trying to make sense of the same paragraph over and over again.

She does find some interesting books, though, and she jots down the title, author and reference page. Unfortunately, nothing fits all of the symptoms they’re looking for. One book in particular highlights various potions which are particularly lethal to Muggle-borns. Unfortunately, magical loss is not one of the symptoms, and as far as Hermione knows none of the sick students have broken out in warts.

A hand on her shoulder jolts Hermione back to reality.

“What?” she gasps, opening her eyes and looking around. She looks over at James, who appears exhausted and not his usual upbeat self.

“You drifted off. You were just standing there and I thought were thinking, but you were swaying back and forth. I was terrified you were going to topple over into the bookshelf. We should get back.”

Hermione rubs her eyes. She does feel exhausted. She looks down at her list. She did manage to get a few titles down for further research. She frowns and squints down at the last title. “Magi nd Powderedilllnee Use?” she reads, horrified. She must have been more out of it than she thought.

James chuckles when he leans over to read what she was looking at. “I think we both need some shuteye.”

Feeling defeated and useless, Hermione nods. They got next to nothing done. Unless James hit a goldmine, her research gives them next to no lead. She had been hoping this would be the answer, but this has only been another dead end.

“Hey,” James says softly, pulling Hermione into a hug, “don’t worry, this isn’t over. We’ll come back and we’ll bring Sirius and Remus, and hell, even Evans with us. We’ll tear down the place, the five of us.”

Hermione lets out a small laugh and lets herself be comforted by the hug. She wonders how James can read her so well, or if maybe her fatigue has just made her more emotional.

“We’ve covered good ground,” James is still saying. “And we’re doing more than most.”

Hermione nods. Doing more than most is not enough for her. It’s fairly standard in her daily routine, actually. Hermione needs to do more than most, do it efficiently and succeed at it.

James starts to pull back out of the hug but slowly, instead of straightening out, he stops when they’re still half-embraced. He still has his arms around her waist and his head bent over hers. His bangs fall down, framing both of their faces.

“You’re one heck of a person,” he whispers and before Hermione’s brain can properly assess the situation James has leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. 

Chapter Text

Just as when James hugged her, Hermione’s first instinct is to lean into the comforting gesture. James’ lips are warm pressed up against hers and the strong presence of his body so close to hers grounds her. But this is the reaction of her sleep-induced brain.

When James puts more pressure into the kiss, and his arms flex, starting to bring her closer to him, Hermione’s second instinct wakes her up. She pulls her head back and brings up her arms to James’ chest, pushing herself away.

It was only a chaste kiss but Hermione is breathing hard through her mouth when they break apart. She can feel her pulse racing erratically as she fights to tell herself that this isn’t right. She looks at James, who’s turned away to collect the invisibility cloak from where he’d left it down the aisle, along with his parchment notes and quill. Hermione follows him, ready to dot her i’s. She needs to put her foot down and tell him once and for all that it’s not going to happen. She needs to be more aware of the signals. This time, it was obvious, but James caught her sleepy and off-guard. It was a mean trick.

James doesn’t give her a chance to speak. “We really should get back,” he whispers, as though he’s not the one who had just prevented them from doing so.

Hermione opens her mouth, about to point that fact out, but then thinks better of it. This wasn’t the time or place to kiss her, but it’s not the time or place to talk about that inappropriate kiss, either. If either of them gets worked up they could be overheard and that would be catastrophic.

Besides, Hermione needs James’ cooperation to make it back to the common room, and the last thing she needs is a petulant, hormonal teenage boy refusing to cooperate because he’s been definitively rejected. So, she just nods and lets James press up close against her and throw the cloak over the both of them.

On the way back, a Prefect suddenly rounds a corner and nearly bumps into them but at the last minute makes a wider turn and continues on his merry way. Hermione almost shrieks but James puts his hand over her mouth just in time and they wait with hammering hearts until the Prefect has walked down the hallway and made another turn, none the wiser to their presence. It’s a strange thought, remembering that you’re invisible.

Back in the common room, safe and sound, James bundles up his cloak. Hermione half expects him to dash away to his dorm, but instead he turns and faces her and says, glumly, “I suppose we should talk?”

They sit on the couch and turn toward each other. The fireplace is lit and its warmth feels nice; the castle hallways are always so drafty but with the night’s adrenaline rush Hermione hadn’t realized how chilly she had been until the fire’s heat thaws her muscles.

Hermione expects James to wait for her to speak, but as soon as they’ve sat down he says, “Sorry. For startling you back there.”

Hermione is momentarily thrown aback. She had expected James to be dismissive and joke it off, if anything. But he sounds genuinely sorry and when Hermione looks at him all she sees is how tired he is. Maybe he doesn’t have the energy to put up that joking front. “But I do really like you,” he adds.

It’s Hermione’s turn to speak now and she opens her mouth to say, ‘I’m sorry but we can never be together,’ or ‘I’m sorry but I don’t feel that way about you’ or ‘That was all kinds of inappropriate!’ but when it comes down to it she can’t bring herself to say anything along those lines.

Hermione can still feel a ghost of pressure from James’ lips on hers and the thought makes her body hum softly. It’s hard to remember all the reasons not to (Harry, Ron, the future, she doesn’t belong, she can’t belong) when James Potter is sitting across from her looking tired but still hopeful. She doesn’t think anyone has ever seen him look this vulnerable before, not even Lily.

“This isn’t really the time for romance,” Hermione hears herself saying, instead of all the things she wants to say, all the things she should be saying.

“I know,” James agrees in a hurry, “but we can’t stop living just because some bad things are happening.”

Hermione wants to cry. Of course James would think this way; James and Lily whose biggest act of rebellion against Voldemort is not to fight him but to love each other, get married and have a child in the middle of a war. Hermione wishes James could see Harry, though, Harry who would give anything to start living, to have at least a resemblance of a normal life.

Hermione looks away and rubs her eyes. She’s tired and thinking of Harry while trying to think of how to reject his father without hurting his feelings - because Hermione is starting to care for him like a friend, she really is - is not helping her think more clearly.

“And I’m very focused on my studies…” Hermione doesn’t know if she’s trying to convince James, or herself.

“I know,” there’s a lightness to James’ voice that Hermione doesn’t like. She looks back at James to see a slow smile forming. He thinks she’s going to give in. “I wouldn’t stop you from your studies. Promise.”

“I hardly know you,” Hermione says, grasping at the last straw of excuses she can think of. “I can’t date someone I don’t know very well… that I’m not very good friends with.”

This is not the best excuse she could have thought of, because this time James perks up considerably and smiles fully at her. “All right,” he says and stands up from the couch.

Thinking their conversation over, Hermione stands, slowly. James steps closer to her, a little bit too close, and Hermione is afraid he’ll try to kiss her again. Instead, he whispers, “Prepare yourself, Granger. You won’t be able to resist becoming my friend.” Then he winks and with that spins around and rushes up to his dorm.

For a few moments, Hermione stares at the empty common room where James had just been a few seconds ago. Then, she collapses back onto the couch. She can’t wrap her mind around the night she just had. And how it had ended… She sighs. She may have bought herself some time, she thinks, but she’ll definitely have to find a way home before James decides they’re sufficiently friends and resumes his courting.

At breakfast the next morning, the news is grim.

“The Slytherin invasion was a bust,” Sirius grumbles, stabbing his egg angrily, making it cry thick yellow tears. “They’re obviously delighted at what’s happening, but if they know anything they’re being very careful. They’re not even talking about it between themselves.”

Hermione looks at Peter carefully. He’s the only one who could have infiltrated the Slytherin common room. She searches his face for any sign of guilt that he may not have been relating the whole truth to Sirius, but Peter is busy digging into his breakfast, nodding his head vigorously at Sirius’ words, mouth too full to agree verbally.

“Excuse me, but how do you know this?”

Sirius grins. “Sorry, Evans, I have to protect my source.”

“We didn’t find anything either.”

James must have filled Remus and Sirius in about the Restricted Section because they don’t ask what he’s talking about and Lily knows better than to ask. She chews on a piece of toast and stares down the Gryffindor table like she doesn’t even hear what they’re saying.

“So, what now? It’s over?” Peter asks, having finally swallowed.

“Of course not! We keep researching and we keep our eyes and ears open. Something is bound to turn up.”

“Right you are, Granger,” Sirius says as he stands up. “But for the moment James and I will keep our eyes and ears open on the Quidditch pitch. Tryouts today.”

“I’ve actually decided to volunteer at the hospital wing,” Lily says softly, turning her focus back to their conversation now that they were done talking about their highly-illegal activities. “I know you’ll have research covered, Gabi, and I just feel like I can do so much more good there. I already feel terrible that only one symptom has hit me. The others haven’t been so lucky.”

The students with diminished magical abilities had been released finally, but with strict instructions to report the moment they started feeling ill.

“You coming, Moony?” Sirius asks Remus. James has also stood up and they’re both ready to take off to the Quidditch pitch. Peter scrambles to stuff his last two sausages in his mouth.

Remus looks from Hermione to Sirius. “I’ll go with Granger. We still have a lot of books to consult.”

Sirius’ glare darkens considerably. “Suit yourself,” he mutters, and stalks off.

James only laughs though. “Books over Quidditch? You are an odd one, Moony, old pal. Well, see you later!”

Peter scrambles after them, asking loud excited questions about who they think will be the best candidates for the available positions.

Hermione and Remus move the poufs in the library into a corner, side by side, with a new stack of books between their feet. It’s not the most practical way to take notes and Remus gets a dollop of ink on his baggy sweater, but Hermione feels comfortable and safe sitting next to Remus. As dearly as she loves and misses Harry and Ron Hermione has often wished in her time to have a friend who shares her passion for studies. In this timeline, Hermione was first given Lily, and now Remus. She wants to hold on to this feeling as long as possible, since she has no idea the future that awaits her when she finally manages to return.

Sirius shows up in the library after Quidditch. He’s showered – his hair is damp – and changed robes. Hermione notices how his eyes flit between Hermione and Remus.

“You two look cozy,” he says, and then proceeds to plop himself down between the two of them. Hermione tries to scooch over to avoid getting an elbow in the face. Sirius sits with half a bum on one pouf and half a bum on the other. It has to be very uncomfortable, but Sirius lounges back like he’s never been comfier and looks over Remus’ shoulder at the book he’s reading.

“Find anything?”

“No.” Hermione is starting to feel like this is a waste of time. Nothing they read matches both of the symptoms, and even when taking the symptoms separately, as two separate causes, nothing makes sense. The textbooks only offer solutions, potions and spells that Hermione knows Madame Pomfrey would have already tried.

“Ready for a break? James and Peter said they’d be outside.”

“Yes, please!” Hermione shuts her book. Sirius looks over at her, surprised, like he’d forgotten she was even there but Hermione doesn’t care. She could use the fresh air. She thinks that maybe afterwards she’ll go to the infirmary and help Lily. Maybe she’ll feel more useful there.

They hear the commotion before they see what’s going on. They’ve just left the castle and are making their way toward the Quidditch pitch, keeping an eye out for James and Peter, when they hear the loud talking and then a piercing shriek.

It doesn’t take them long to find the source of the chaos – a large group of students have already gathered close to the pitch  but it’s not until Hermione and Sirius have fought their way through the outraged spectators that they see what’s going on.

In the clearing between the half-circle of spectators and the large group of Slytherins in front of them, a girl is sitting on the ground, head bent so that half of her face is covered by her long brown hair. Her shoulders are shaking. Hermione vaguely recognizes her. Meadowes, isn’t it? Dorothy? Dora? Dorcas! Dorcas Meadowes, one of Lily’s friends.

A few of the Slytherins have their wands out and there’s a strong, pungent smell in the air. Hermione’s stomach sinks in horror when she realizes that the smell is coming from Dorcas - bladder failure.

Hermione looks at the Slytherins again, hate consuming her entirely. She takes out her wand, and it takes all of her self-control not to hex them right away. She recognizes Snape among the older students who are standing in the front lines, laughing, yelling insults at Dorcas and otherwise looking extremely pleased with themselves.

Sirius acts faster. He casts a cleaning spell at Dorcas, something no one else dared to do, for fear of facing the wrath of the entire Slytherin group. “Apologize and help her up,” Sirius says to who appears to be the leader of the group.

The Slytherins laugh at that and Snape steps forward away from the group. “Or what?” he spits out. This is personal.

Hermione’s disgust at seeing this young version of Snape intensifies. He was always cruel, she thinks. How could Dumbledore trust this dirty, filthy man?

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” Sirius growls out. Hermione can feel the hostility seeping out of his pores and even she’s scared. She watches as Sirius raises his wand and Snape’s arm twitches as he goes to mirror the movement.

Hermione acts faster than either of them. “Expelliarmus,” she shouts, pointing her wand at Snape. The wand goes flying out of Snape’s hand but Hermione doesn’t wait to see where it lands. She rounds on the leader of the group and casts a Stinging Hex which hits him straight in the face.

Snape’s wand lands a few feet from Hermione.

“You’re all nothing but revolting bullies,” she cries out at the group of Slytherins who are too stunned to move. With their leader screaming in pain while clutching his face, they’re not sure if they should retaliate or back down.

Only Snape acts on his own. He makes a dive for his wand, but Hermione is closer. In a few steps, she’s put her foot on the end of the wand and with her momentum she swings her arm, fist colliding powerfully with Snape’s eye.

This is nothing Hermione had planned but it feels good – the pain that shoots up her arm at the contact feels like revenge.

Hermione doesn’t have time to savor the feeling though. As soon as Snape has backed down, holding his face in his hands and screaming obscenities, she feels rough hands pull her back away from the clearing and away from everyone staring at her with wide eyes and slack jaws.

Hermione goes to elbow her aggressor in the stomach when he whispers, “That’s enough,” and Hermione curbs the violent reflex.

James pulls her away from the crowd, Sirius, Remus and Peter close behind. “That,” he whispers, still holding on to her arms, but now guiding instead of pulling her away from the scene of the crime, “was brilliant!”

He turns to Remus. “See to it that Meadowes gets to the common room all right?”

Remus nods and disappears back into the group of students, though now the Slytherins have slinked off and everyone starts to disband, talking wildly and staring at Hermione as they pass her.

“Come on.” James puts an arm over Hermione and starts guiding her away. “We need to get out of here before the professors show up.” 

Chapter Text

As it turns out, professors do not need to be onsite to know who the culprits of a fight are. Lily finds them a few hours later in the common room to relay the message that they are all summoned to Professor McGonagall’s office.

“This instant,” she specifies when none of them stir.

Hermione’s stomach is a tight knot of dread as she and the boys make their way solemnly to Professor McGonagall’s office. She doesn’t regret hitting Snape - she has been dying to for five whole years now – but her throbbing knuckles reminds her painfully of the reality of the situation. She should have called a Head student or a Professor instead of taking matters into her own hand. And hexing that other Slytherin boy was completely out of line, although she can’t say that she regrets having done so.

Professor McGonagall is in the process of writing a letter when they enter her office. She lets them stand awkwardly and nervously before her desk while she finishes her letter. Hermione can tell from the stiffness in her face that she is very angry.

Eventually, she signs the letter and puts the quill down, setting the parchment aside to let the ink dry.

Predictably, she lectures them about a student’s responsibility to alert the authorities of discord. Eventually, however, she turns her attention to Hermione.

“I am especially disappointed in you, Miss Granger,” she says in that soft voice laced with feeling that only Professor McGonagall can do so well. “All your teachers have spoken so highly of you. Achieving outstanding results on your O.W.Ls, diligently catching up on your work, and attentive and respectful in class. And yet the few witnesses smart enough to step forward named you as the chief instigator of the retaliation against the Slytherins. Whatever they may have done, Miss Granger, you are not a Prefect or a Head Girl and you were in no position to deal out punishment the way you did.”

Hermione’s eyes feel hot and pressurized but she won’t let herself lower her gaze or let her nerves get the best of her emotions. She meets Professor McGonagall’s look fully and only takes a moment to assure herself that she is in full control of her composure. She is ready to confirm everything and accept her punishment.

“It wasn’t Granger,” James says before Hermione can even open her mouth. “I cast the spells.”

Everyone’s head turns to James and Professor McGonagall looks thrown off in surprise for a few moments. “It is very gallant of you to save your friend from detention, Mr. Potter, but the witnesses-”

“The witnesses look up to me,” James interrupts Professor McGonagall. Hermione wonders how many students have ever dared do such a thing. The list must be a small one indeed. “I’m the Quidditch Captain, no one wants to see me in detention with the new season coming up. Granger’s the perfect scapegoat, the new student who has no one to take her side. But she’s my friend and I won’t let her take the blame for retribution I distributed, and would all over again.”

Hermione is at a loss. Should she speak up and deny it, a position that would no doubt result in the both of them getting detention? McGonagall clearly looks skeptical at this unexpected confession and Hermione can’t blame her. She herself is torn between if James is trying to act gallantly, or if he just wants the glory surely associated with Hermione’s actions. She did incapacitate two Slytherins and scare of the lot of them, single-handedly, after all.

The moment for Hermione to speak up passes, however, when Professor McGonagall decides not to call James’ bluff. None of the Slytherins must have admitted to having been beaten off by a girl and since James is quite popular, Professor McGonagall has reasons to doubt the validity of the confessions she heard.

Besides, they’re not a Wizengamot trial here, and why would Professor McGonagall give herself the extra pain of interrogating them all and forcing a confession if James is giving himself up?

“Very well. Fifty points from Gryffindor for your rash actions, Mr. Potter, and for your friends’ poor judgments in not notifying a professor. You may leave now,” Professor McGonagall nods to the four of them. “Mr. Potter, you will stay here while I think about the terms of your punishment.”

Hermione wants to hang back and apologize to James for having put him in this situation, but she knows she can’t say anything that Professor McGonagall won’t overhear. James turns to her when Professor McGonagall looks away a moment and he grins and winks at her.

Hermione feels her face heat up suddenly and she understands. James isn’t protecting her or claiming the glory for himself. This is just part of his plan to make Hermione like him more. She feels like a fool as she storms out of the office because it’s actually worked. That cunning, little…

Hermione has only just closed the door to Professor McGonagall’s office when Sirius rounds on her. No doubt instinctively, Remus takes a step closer to Hermione so that he’s standing half-way in front of her and between her and Sirius.

“Good job getting James into trouble,” Sirius snaps at Hermione over Remus’ shoulder.

“I didn’t ask him to do anything,” Hermione snaps right back, not about to let Sirius bully her into feeling guilty about something she had no control over.

“James knew what he was doing, Si, you can’t blame Granger for that,” Remus says. He speaks softly and calmly, like he’s verbally trying to reach out and pat Sirius soothingly on the back.

It doesn’t seem to work. If anything, Sirius just looks more worked up and annoyed. He turns his gaze from Hermione to Remus and this time, Hermione is scared.

There’s so much intensity in his gaze – so much anger, so much… jealously? – and from the way his jaw muscles visibly twitch Hermione is terrified that he’ll actually punch Remus.

Thankfully, he does no such thing. Instead, he turns back to Hermione. “He would have done the same for any one of us. Don’t go thinking you’re something special.” Then he spins around and stomps off, Peter scrambling after him as always.

Hermione gasps for breath. She hadn’t even realized she’d been holding it and now she pants to fill her lungs. Sirius can be seriously terrifying when he’s jealous, Hermione thinks.

Remus puts a hand on her back. “Are you okay? Sorry about Sirius. He doesn’t know how to control his temper.”

Hermione shakes her head. “It’s fine. I can hold my own.”

Remus gives her one of those rare half-smiles of his. “You know, Sirius wasn’t completely wrong. James would have done the same for any of us, meaning his friends. If you weren’t anything special he wouldn’t have taken the blame for you.”

Hermione tries not to feel so happy at what Remus says. She doesn’t want to want James to consider her anything special. She doesn’t want to come between Sirius and Remus. And yes, it seems that on both counts she’s not getting what she wishes.

She lets Remus accompany her back to the common room where they quietly get started on some neglected homework. Her suspicions have solidified into certainties and Hermione knows that the time for her and Sirius to have a talk has come.

Hermione tries to stay up and wait for James to return from detention, but she falls asleep on the couch. Lily wakes her up when she returns from her Prefect duties and Hermione decides to just follow her up to bed.

The next morning, James looks like he’s about to face plant into his hash browns he’s so tired. He doesn’t mention detention at all until Hermione finally asks him about it, but he brushes her off.

“I’m not the type to sweep and tell,” he tells her with a sleepy grin, and Hermione isn’t sure if that’s a bad pun on him trying to sweep her off her feet, or if Professor McGonagall had him sweep somewhere the Muggle-way.

Honestly, she could think of worse detentions than that, if that was the case. She seemed to recall a particular time in the Forbidden Forest….

“You should have a called a professor, is what you should have done,” Lily tells them all reproachfully. Hermione knows she’s just doing her duty as a Prefect, but she’s not sure she would have said the same if it had been Harry who had been the one to hex Draco’s stupid grin off of his face or something.

“I know, but you should have seen what they did to Dorcas… I just lost it!”

Lily nods slowly. “She was in quite a state last night.”

Sirius jumps up from the bench. “I’m done eating.” He turns to James. “I’ll see you at the Quidditch pitch.”

Hermione looks over at Remus, who goes on eating his breakfast like this a normal occurrence, and she sighs as Sirius leaves the Great Hall. What a mess.

“I’m done as well. I promised Madame Pomfrey I’d be there early this morning.”

“I’ll come with you,” Hermione says, standing up. “Do you want to come with us, Lupin?”

“I’ll keep researching. You never know what may turn up.”

Hermione sighs. He sounds so dejected, but Hermione knows she won’t get a chance to talk to Sirius today when he and James have Quidditch practice. She needs a plan for getting Sirius alone.

The hospital wing is quite a sight. The smell of human sickness is strong, despite the odor charms Madame Pomfrey must be casting, and seeing her fellow students twisting and turning in the little hospital beds makes Hermione want to cry.

“At least the vomiting subsided two nights ago,” Lily tells Hermione as she shows her where they have to wash their hands and get the supplies.

Other than the sick students, there are only two other students with Madame Pomfrey tending to the patients. It’s early Sunday morning, so even the Prefects don’t have to be at their duties so early. Madame Pomfrey has damp cloths flying all over the room, from one patient to the next. When she sees Lily she gives a small cry of relief.

“Oh, thank goodness, you’re here! They haven’t worsened overnight but they just won’t stop shivering. Take the warm cloths and try to bring their fevers down. Maybe try talking to them, too? Some human contact might do them good.” She spares a moment to give Hermione a small smile of gratitude or acknowledgement and then she’s hurrying back to the patients.

Hermione and Lily each take a cloth and a bowl of water and head to their first patients. It’s hard work tending to all of the sick students. Although the more violent symptoms have subsided, they still look clammy and keep shivering. Hermione wonders if they even hear her as she struggles for subjects to talk about to them. Other than a few girls she recognizes by sight Hermione doesn’t know any of them and she sure as heck doesn’t know what to say.

Finally, she falls into a sort of routine. She begins by pressing the cool cloth to the girl’s forehead, then cheek. Then she casts a levitation spell so she can quickly change the bed sheets. After that she sits by the bed for a few minutes telling the girl about how their classes are going and the new spells they’re learning and their latest essay assignments. She tells every girl more or less the same thing. None of them contribute to the conversation anyway and Hermione doubts any of them can overhear her over their teeth clattering loudly.

It’s hard work, even with the use of magic at her disposal, and Hermione hadn’t realized how many students had actually fallen sick until she sees them all lined up in beds like this. It’s disheartening to know that she can’t do more for them.

Lily and Hermione take a break after the first couple of hours. They sit in the hallway and munch on a piece of chocolate Madame Pomfrey keeps in her cupboards.

“It was nice of James to take the blame for you,” Lily says as they pass the chocolate back and forth. Hermione can hear in her voice that she doesn’t entirely think so. “Just… be careful. He’s a smooth guy and he’ll do anything to impress you.”

Hermione knows Lily is talking from experience. After all, hadn’t James had his sights set on Lily before Hermione arrived? Hermione wonders if Lily really does feel as relieved as she pretends to be for James to have shifted his attentions elsewhere, or if she feels discarded.

“I told him we should just be friends.” It’s not a lie, just a half-truth and Lily looks at Hermione sideways, like she’s calling her bluff.

“Just as long as he knows friends is the last-stop destination. If you’re not unrelenting in your stand he’ll always push for more.”

Hermione blushes, knowing Lily is completely right. She breaks off a piece of chocolate and pretends to be too caught up nibbling to answer.

Hermione feels Lily turn her body toward her more than she sees it, though she does see her move blurrily in her peripheral vision.

“Oh my God,” Lily hisses. “Oh my God!”

Hermione doesn’t know why Lily is suddenly whispering. There’s no one else in the hallway and with the noise the girls are making in the infirmary it’s not like anyone inside will overhear them, even if they talk normally.

“You already like him, don’t you?”

Hermione already knew her face was red but now she can feel it burning. She wants to deny it but the thought barges through her mental censor faster than she can catch it. Yes. I really do. Out loud, she says, “I think he makes a good friend. Whatever he may have done in the past,” Hermione continues on quickly, seeing Lily opening her mouth indignantly, “I think he’s a good person.”

Even though now she’s finally admitted the truth to herself, Hermione gathers up her tenacity, as James had put it, to never give in to these feelings. She has to remember what’s at stake – the Wizarding world’s future, her future, her best friend’s very existence! Possibly even her own. Hermione thinks back to the troll in her first year and how Harry and Ron were the ones to save her. But, without Harry, who knows what would have happened?

“Maybe.” Hermione is surprised that Lily doesn’t start on a rant about how James and his friends are no-good scum. “He does seem to have changed, matured somehow, I’ll give you that. But I just don’t want to see him hurt you when he turns his fancy on the next new girl at school.”

Hermione chews the inside of her lip thoughtfully and nods. “I know. That won’t happen.” It’s a promise more to herself than to Lily, but thankfully they leave it at that. They crumple up the empty chocolate wrapper and throw it in the bin on their way back to the infirmary to help Madame Pomfrey feed lunch to the girls.

Hermione is surprised to see James show up at the hospital wing a few hours later. With the little amount of sleep he got last night she thought he would have been thrilled to rest the afternoon away.

“Quidditch got me riled up,” he says when Hermione and Lily look up, surprised to see him of all people standing there. “Slytherin has the field booked now, so there’s not much recon to be done on our part. But I thought I’d come and help. Be useful.”

Hermione and Lily share a look but then Lily rolls her eyes and heads off to refill her bowl of water. Hermione has her patient levitated – they’re sweating so much their sheets need to be changed several times a day – and is about to start stripping the bed of the sheets.

“Here! I’ll do it,” James volunteers, and Hermione has to stop from laughing. James Potter could sure be charming when he set himself to it. She can see how Lily eventually falls for him – and still has to, Hermione reminds herself, though now the thought is accompanied with a jealous stirring in her heart.

Hermione forces herself to be nice but a bit short with James. She avoids all eye contact for too long and makes sure that James can’t ‘accidentally’ brush their fingers or arms together. Still, despite her best efforts to keep James at bay, Hermione still feels as aware of James’ presence as if they were making eye contact and brushing fingers ‘accidentally.’

When she sits down to deliver her usual prep-talk to the patient, James stares at her aghast.

“Is this what you’ve been boring these girls with?” He shakes his head and then buries it in his hands in mock horror. “No wonder these girls aren’t getting any better! You’re giving them every reason in the world to stay in here! Here, let me.” James accios himself a stool and places it much too close to Hermione. Hermione tries to move her stool over, but she can’t without colliding into the side table. So she listens as James tell his own stories, of the Quidditch tryouts and the hilarious events at practice today, like how the Snitch flew right into the Seeker’s ear and then she was too disoriented to even catch it.

At dinnertime, Madame Pomfrey finally shoos them out of the infirmary. The evening Prefect group will be up to help her after dinner, and by that time most of the patients have already started drifting off into uneasy sleep.

The three of them walk to the Great Hall together and there’s a strange sort of companionable atmosphere. Lily and James are actually having a conversation about Quidditch that doesn’t involve biting sarcasm or personal taunts. Lily is actually talking to James like he’s a person she tolerates and James is too keen on talking anything Quidditch to push her buttons.

At one point though, James looks over at Hermione. Their eyes meet and Hermione’s heart bursts into a thousand butterflies desperate to flutter out of her chest. She quickly looks away but she knows she’s given herself a way.

James looked like a sphinx ready to pounce. 

Chapter Text

One morning when Hermione is writing the date on one of her papers for class it strikes her that she’s been at Hogwarts for almost a month. Her seventeenth birthday has come and gone without her even noticing it, and even though the first of October is creeping up she is no closer to getting home than when she arrived.

Although, that’s not entirely true, is it? a little voice in the back of her mind whispers maliciously. Hermione puts an elbow on her desk and rests her head on her fingers. She’s having a hard time listening to Professor Vector drone on about the magical properties of the number nine.

Hermione knows accessing the book she saw in the Restricted Section should be her top priority, but she suddenly got caught up in volunteering at the infirmary with Lily and James and a part of Hermione doesn’t want her time here to end. It’s selfish and goes against everything she believes in, but when she thinks of being torn away from Lily and Remus and Sirius and… and James…

Despite their best efforts to help the sick students, however, their conditions aren’t improving at all. In fact, if anything they’re getting worse. The vomiting has started up again and a few of them have been experiencing shivers so violent that Madame Pomfrey has had to cast a spell to prevent them from biting their own tongues.

Mercifully, Professor Vector lets them leave early, and she and Lily head up to the common room. They’ve been hanging out with the Marauders every day now, and Hermione is glad for Lily’s presence as it tampers the arctic freeze that’s been going on between Sirius and Remus. She’s not the only one to notice the cool between the two boys, but Hermione suspects she’s the only one who may know the real reason. She tentatively brings it up to James one evening when they’re alone doing homework – Remus and Lily off on Prefect duties and Sirius and Peter who knows where.

“Sirius is prone to throwing temper tantrums every now and then,” he answers absentmindedly, leafing through his textbook on advanced spells. “Besides,” he looks up from his book and stares pensively into space, “sometimes I get the feeling that Sirius doesn’t really care much for Remus. It’s as though I know they wouldn’t be friends if I wasn’t around.”

Hermione stares at James, gaping at his answer. His response doesn’t sound egoistical at all, but genuinely concerned over how his two best friends may not be so crazy about each other. Hermione marvels at how oblivious boys can be. It’s kind of cute, the thought pops up unwarranted in her head and she promptly stomps on it and buries it deep in her mind where it will never resurface.

Hermione doesn’t forget about her vow to intervene and talk some sense into Sirius, but the opportunity doesn’t present itself. Sirius keeps Peter close to him at all times and Hermione wonders if it’s a ploy to keep her and Remus at bay. Hermione notices the dejected looks Remus casts Sirius’ way every time they sit down for a meal and Sirius sits at the furthest location possible from him, and then when he gets up to leave Sirius calls on Peter to follow him instead of Remus.

At first, when Hermione notices how ragged Remus is looking in the mornings, she thinks that maybe Remus is losing sleep over his deteriorating friendship – or should Hermione say relationship? – until she remembers that the next day is the full moon.  

That evening, Hermione makes a beeline for the couch where Sirius is flipping through a Quidditch magazine. It looks like the same one James had been reading the previous week. Even though Peter is sitting on the floor, leaning his back against the couch, Hermione goes over and sits down right next to Sirius.

Sirius makes an irritated noise in the back of throat and moves over away from Hermione, nudging Peter over with his leg. Hermione doesn’t care. And she doesn’t care that Peter is there. He’s probably too thick to understand what she’ll say anyway.

“You shouldn’t be treating Lupin the way you are because of me. You’re really hurting him.”

Sirius peeks at her from behind his magazine and then straightens out the page again so his face is hidden from her. “Don’t talk about things you don’t understand.”

“Oh, but I do, you see. Understand, that is.” Since Sirius isn’t look at her, Hermione can’t convey through her eyes what she doesn’t dare say out loud explicitly. That puts a real damper on her plans.

Thankfully, though, Sirius’ attention, or perhaps suspicions, is grabbed and he lowers the magazine. He frowns sceptically. “What has Remus told you?”

“Nothing. He didn’t have to tell me anything.” Hermione leans forward. “I’m rather observant, you see.”

Sirius doesn’t go for the bait. He scoffs. “You don’t know anything.” He sneers at her, an ugly twist of the lips that Hermione thinks he’s much better never doing again. “You think your cryptic talk will make me open up, but you don’t know anything. I invented manipulation. You’re an amateur.”

Hermione sighs. Sirius really is quite the handful, she reflects philosophically. Although, the Sirius she knows has proved himself no less stubborn. She can’t push the issue further and although Peter is staring at them in total confusion she’s sure that even he would understand if she told Sirius that she knows he and Remus have something more going on between them than friendship. So she lets the issue drop for now.

At that moment, Remus enters the common room. He looks from Hermione to Sirius sitting on the couch, rather close to each other all things considering. Hermione thinks he’s about to sit down, or at least ask what’s going on, but he doesn’t. He just walks on by and heads to the dorms. It’s still early, but Hermione suspects he wants to get as much shuteye as possible before the full moon.

Sirius chucks the magazine aside. “I’m going to bed,” he mutters darkly. Hermione watches him follow after Remus. Somehow, she doubts that he’s gone after him to clear things up. So much for her brilliant plan to talk sense into Sirius.

“What was that all about?” Peter asks, nasal voice immediately waking up irritation in Hermione.

“None of your business,” she snaps. Without anyone around to act as a witness, Hermione feels no need to pretend to be polite to him, but she still stands before she can say anything that Peter can complain about to Sirius or James. “You filthy rodent,” Hermione mutters under her breath when she’s out of Peter’s earshot. Feeling a little bit better, she goes to tackle some homework before bedtime.

The day after the full moon, Hermione doesn’t see the boys at all. They don’t show up for any of the meals but Hermione tells herself that she shouldn’t worry. They’re probably too exhausted to come to class and most likely sneaking into the kitchens for nourishment.

“I cannot believe those boys!” Lily exclaims at dinnertime. “They’ve missed an entire day of classes. And here I thought they were turning a new leaf,” she scoffs. “They better not have done anything to cost us points. I will murder them if they have!”

Hermione smiles at her rant. She knows Lily is going for the outraged Prefect act but Hermione can hear the underlying concern in her tone.

“You wouldn’t murder them,” Hermione teases. “Admit it.

Lily sticks out her lower lip and rolls her eyes. “Okay, okay, I wouldn’t. They’re kind of… starting to grow on me. Ah! There I said it. Are you happy now?”

Hermione laughs, but it does make her happy to hear that Lily is changing her opinion of the boys. Maybe there’s hope still, she thinks… and then that same needle of jealousy stabs her heart.

Hermione tries to keep her mind from running wild through every worst-case scenario she can imagine that night when lying in bed, unable to fall asleep. What if something went wrong during the full moon? What if their animal instincts overpowered their human drive and someone got hurt? What if Remus attacked and overpowered them?

The thought that Hermione may have contributed to the untimely death of one of the Marauders sends Hermione into a panicked state and she has to force herself to breathe calmly to avoid having a panic attack. No, everything will be fine, she tries to reassure herself. She tries to turn her thoughts to more pleasant topics – the assignments due coming up – but her brain keeps returning to the unpleasant business of violence and blood and death, and at one point Hermione does drift off to sleep, but it’s a restless sleep and she wakes up in the morning feeling more tired than if she hadn’t slept a wink at all.

Hermione’s mind is put at ease the next morning when she sees the boys arriving to class. They’re cutting it close, but thankfully the professor hasn’t arrived yet and they don’t get into trouble. They look exhausted, but other than that, they look fine. Lupin has an odd expression that Hermione can’t decipher, but she suspects that’s only to be expected after a full moon.

“What in the world were those boys up to?” Lily whispers. Hermione thinks she may be referring to how tired they look but then Lily nods at Sirius and that’s when Hermione sees it  – the limp. Sirius is injured.

She can tell that he’s trying to hide it and walk normally, but there’s a small hiccup in his step when the pain becomes unbearable and his leg gives out right before his other foot touches the ground.

Terror padlocks Hermione’s heart and her eyes swivel back to Remus. She recognizes the expression now for what it really is: guilt.

Last night’s scenarios come back full throttle: has Remus attacked Sirius and wounded him? Is Sirius a werewolf now? Hermione will never be able to forgive herself if he is.

Hermione’s chance to find out what happened presents itself after their last class of the day. Lily and Remus leave the class quickly to report to their Prefect duties and Hermione sees James lingering outside the classroom door, waiting for a slower-than-usual Sirius.

Anxious not to wait too long and miss the moment, Hermione makes to leave the classroom but as soon as she steps out of the doorway she turns and grabs James by the arm and pulls him into the adjacent empty classroom and slams the door shut.

James looks delighted. “I was wondering when you’d-”

“What happened to Sirius?” Hermione demands right away, not in the mood for James’ light-hearted bantering. In her concern she forgets to refer to Sirius by the distancing last name.

“Nothing.”

“Don’t give me that. I saw him limping. What. Happened?”

James looks surprised, and then panicked. “Nothing, really! Look, two nights ago we snuck out to have some fun outside. I don’t know what’s going on with those two, but all of a sudden Sirius just pounced on Remus. Just like that. I was so shocked. He jumped on him and started attacking him. Remus defended himself, naturally.”

Hermione feels sick to her stomach. She pushed the two into fighting. It’s her fault, she knows. It could have been so much worse than a limp. “Did… did Remus hurt Sirius? Other than the limp?” She’s almost too scared to hear the answer.

James frowns. “No…” he says slowly, and Hermione realizes her mistake. Why would she assume Remus hurt Sirius? Sirius could clearly take Remus in a fight any day. Well, any day that’s not the full moon when Remus transforms into a very powerful, very dangerous werewolf, but Hermione isn’t supposed to know about that.

“I just noticed Sirius limping, and not any of you,” Hermione scrambles to explain. “I was just worried.”

James gives her a soft smile. “I honestly don’t know what it was all about. Sirius wouldn’t say after the fact. I just hope he got it out of his system. Is your interrogation over? Can we go grab some dinner now? I’m bloody starved.” He says it playfully, but Hermione can sense that he’s scared Hermione may get the truth out of him if she keeps pushing.

“Sure,” Hermione returns his smile. “Let’s go eat.” She doesn’t need to push him to admit anything. She knows the truth. And then she remembers – werewolf wounds don’t have the same effect on animals as humans. If Remus had attacked Sirius before he could transform, he wouldn’t be able to use his leg at all. Besides, James’ calm demeanour reassures her. There’s no way he would be able to keep this calm if his best friend had been turned into a werewolf, good actor not.

The realization is so strong that Hermione feels her soft smile relax into something more genuine and relieved. Of course, she’s being so silly. There’s no way Sirius would have even been allowed to class if he’d been transformed. Dumbledore would have had to take him to the Ministry to register as a werewolf, and Remus’ secret would have been exposed and no doubt Dumbledore’s reputation would have been tarnished when parents found out a lethal creature had been roaming Hogwarts grounds every month for the past six years.

Hermione shakes her head, desperate to rid her mind of this new, terrifying scenario that could so easily have happened.

James is looking at her curiously. “Are you okay, Granger?”

She nods and tries her best to smile at him winningly. “Yes, sorry, just got lost in my thoughts.”

James chuckles. “Come on, let’s go get some dinner.” He reaches for Hermione’s bag before she can stop him, slinging the strap over his shoulder.

Hermione is perfectly capable of carrying her own bag, thank you very much, and is just about to tell James this when she stops herself. For some reason, it doesn’t seem so important. She smiles at him and lets him open the door for her and accompany her to the Great Hall. 

Chapter Text

This time, Hermione doesn’t wait for an opportunity to present itself to speak to Sirius. The very next day, when Sirius leaves the table first, trailed by Peter as always, Hermione waits a few minutes before excusing herself to go to the loo.

She catches up with the two boys quickly enough, though she hangs back until she sees the perfect moment to strike. Hermione runs up behind him and all but tackles Sirius into the closest classroom. She slams the door shut and casts a locking spell which she hopes is strong enough to keep Peter baffled for long enough. Then, she thinks about it and casts a soundproof spell as well.

“What the bloody hell?” Sirius snarls, but Hermione rounds on him with her wand pointed at his face. Sirius hesitates. He could call Hermione’s bluff or fight her, but Sirius backs down. Either he thinks of how she took on those Slytherins or he figures fighting her would be more of a pain than its worth. Either way, he sits on top of the nearest desk and glares at her.

“Are you a bloody moron?” Hermione snaps. “What kind of person are you attacking Remus like that? Yes, James told me what happened,” Hermione says when Sirius opens his mouth, no doubt to protest or deny. “Not that it’s not obvious what happened, the way you’re limping around the school, thinking no one’s noticed. I’d say you deserve it for having the intelligence and observational skills of a gnat.”

“Who the blood-” Sirius starts, indignant now at having been insulted, but Hermione doesn’t let him go on.

“I have no intentions of dating Remus, you moron,” Hermione says. Finally being able to state things clearly feels very satisfying. Hermione realizes that insulting Sirius may not constitute her best argument but she doesn’t care. Sirius can be so infuriating. She wonders how Remus can even put up with him.

Sirius splutters at that. “What? I wouldn’t care that – Go ahead if you – That’s none of my business!”

“Oh, come off it, Black. Don’t insult me assuming I have the observational skills of a gnat like you and your friends.”

Sirius doesn’t have a reply to that. He stares off resolutely at the wall and it takes a moment for Hermione to notice the dark coloring on his cheeks. He’s blushing, she realizes suddenly, and has to bite down a sudden laugh that bubbles up at the thrill of being right on the money.

Hermione sits on the desk beside Sirius. She considers maybe patting his knee to reassure him, but then thinks better of it. “For what it’s worth, I think you two are really cute together.”

Sirius still won’t look at her or say anything and Hermione feels the need to fill the silence and starts babbling. “If it’s any consolation, I doubt anyone else knows what’s going on. And I’m definitely not interested in Lupin that way. Other than as a friend, of course. I like him as a friend.”

To her surprise, Sirius laughs. It’s a bitter laugh, like he’s laughing at himself rather at something funny Hermione said. The sound makes Hermione feel horrible. “I was so furiously jealous of you,” he admits, like it pains him to say the words out loud, and he still won’t look at her. “His study buddy… That’s all Remus has ever wanted, you know. I think it just made me realize how wrong we are for each other.”

Wrong for each other?! Hermione panics. She never meant to alter the past and now here she is breaking these two up. Then, she hesitates. What if they weren’t even together yet? What if they would break up with or without her anyway? Hermione wants to cry. She doesn’t know what to do at all.

“Lupin is a smart guy,” Hermione says carefully, trying to remain neutral. “Don’t you think he deserves a say in this?”

Sirius finally turns to face Hermione and Hermione can see the regret and the sorrow on his face. “I attacked him last night. Hardly makes me boyfriend of the year, does it?”

So they are together. At that moment, Hermione realizes she doesn’t care. She’s too far into this group of friends to keep deluding herself that she’s not having an impact on the past. She punched Snape in the eye, for crying out loud. She’s not exactly winning any awards for subtlety.

From now on, Hermione decides, she’s going to stop obsessing about her every decision and just follow her gut instinct.

“Get over yourself!” she blurts out and Sirius’ eyes widen immediately, not expecting such a reaction at all. “Do you really think your impulsive nature and tendencies to throw temper tantrums caught Lupin by surprise after entering a relationship? You’ve been friends for how long again?

Besides, that’s maybe just what he needs! Someone to challenge him and stimulate him, not to keep him down with books and studying. I mean those things are great, but similar qualities and interests are usually what we look for in friends. In lovers, we look for that plus something else, someone who’ll challenge us and push us out of our comfort zone.” Hermione realizes she’s going off on a rant, but she only realizes how loudly she’s speaking when she stops and the volume echoes in her ears as silence crashes down on them.

Sirius looks dumbstruck, but slowly his expression changes into one of thought. “Just like James would be good for you, then?”

Now Hermione is the one caught off-guard. “Oh, well, that’s … not quite the same,” she stutters, unable to find the words quickly enough, and she turns red.

Sirius grins and laughs. “I can see why James likes you. You’re clever, and the way you took out those Slytherins? You’re not half-bad after all, Granger.”

Hermione grins. Coming from Sirius, that’s quite a compliment. “You’re not half-bad either yourself, Black.”

They sit there grinning stupidly at each other until the moment passes and then Sirius seems to remember what they were talking about.

He groans loudly. “How in the world am I going to make things right? I’ve been such an arse. Remus won’t even look at me now, much less speak to me.”

Hermione stares at Sirius, mouth agape. “You really are daft,” she whispers.

“Hey!”

“All Remus does is look at you! And all you have to do is apologize to him.”

“Yeah,” Sirius mutters. “That’s easier said than done.”

At that moment, the door bangs open and Peter stumbles through the doorway. He catches himself before he falls, and when he stands up he looks surprised, like he hadn’t expected to be able to undo the spell.

“What was that all about?” he squeaks when he composes himself.

Sirius is laughing hard at Peter’s comical entrance, but the very sight of him immediately kills Hermione’s good mood.

“I should get back,” she says. “I’ve been in the loo for half an hour now… It’s going to be quite embarrassing.”

Sirius laughs but calls her back when Hermione’s almost out of the door.

“Hey, Granger!”

Hermione turns around.

“Thanks.”

Hermione gives him a small smile and nods in return. As she walks away, she can hear Peter loudly asking what that had been all about.

“We were madly snogging,” she hears Sirius tell him. “Thanks a lot of interrupting us.”

“You were not snogging,” Peter replies, but by then Hermione has walked out of earshot.

She gets back to the Great Hall feeling pleased with herself. Remus still looks miserable but Hermione hopes that soon he’ll be back to his old self. She can’t help grinning as she sits back down.

“That must have been one heck of a satisfying visit to the loo,” James jokes.

Lily groans. “Potter, please, we’re still eating.”

But Hermione just laughs, suddenly starving even though she’s already had two eggs and a piece of toast.

“You have no idea,” she says.

She’s fixed things between Sirius and Remus, and she and Sirius are friends again. Irrationally, Hermione can’t help but feel that all is right with the world.

Chapter Text

The first weekend of October brings a definite change in the weather. Although the sky is blue and the sun shines, the temperature dives. Hermione can see her breath billowing up in a white cloud as they walk down to Hogsmeade on Saturday afternoon, with permission this time.

Ever since she talked to Sirius, Hermione has noticed a definite mood shift in the dynamics of their group. It feels like they’re all actually friends. Before, they had just been thrown together by a common cause to help the sick students and bring them justice, and they still had that goal, but Hermione knows their group has turned into something more now.

Sirius and Remus walk up ahead of them all. Sirius has his arm draped over Remus’ shoulders and is talking to him with his head bent next to Remus’ ear. Hermione grins privately to herself. Those two have obviously made up.

Lily is explaining some magical theory to Peter, who seems to be struggling in his elective class, and the two are lagging behind.

This leaves Hermione walking side by side with James the whole way down to Hogsmeade. At first, the silence is awkward and Hermione is much too conscious of Sirius laughing loudly ahead of them and Lily talking patiently to Peter behind them.

“What did you say to Sirius?” James asks suddenly.

Hermione blinks in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“Well, three days ago Sirius couldn’t look at you or hear your name without having an ulcer and now he’s your biggest fan. And he and Remus seem a lot closer.”

“I just told him he had to apologize to Lupin for attacking him.”

“Wha-? P-please, Granger,” James laughs loudly like Hermione told him the joke of the century. “I know my best friend a little better than that. If you’d gone up to Sirius and told he had to apologize, he’d have spat right in your face. I’m sorry to be so crude but it’s the truth! Sirius Black does not like to be told what to do, much less by someone he dislikes.”

“Well,” Hermione sniffs and pushes a strand of hair behind her ear, “maybe Sirius Black likes me better than you think. Besides, I can be quite persuasive.”

James stares at her, baffled and a bit intrigued, Hermione thinks.

When they reach Hogsmeade, Sirius and Remus are waiting for them impatiently. Sirius is hopping on the spot to keep warm.

“’Bout time you guys showed up. Evans!” Sirius shouts, looking over their shoulders. “Stop groping Peter and get your arses over here!”

Hermione whips around, but Lily and Peter are thankfully not groping or snogging or anything of the sort. Lily’s cheeks are bright red but from the chilly air if anything. She scowls at Sirius when she and Peter finally reach them.

“Ever heard of decency, Black? Pettigrew was asking for pointers about how to tackle his assignment on-”

Sirius and James groan loudly in unison. “Please, Evans, can we just enjoy our day out of that bloody castle without having any talk of school work?” James pleads.

Evans huffs but then rolls her eyes. Whereas just a few weeks ago she would have snapped at James for his apparent academic disinterest, today she just hides a little smile and concedes. “All right, but you can’t fool me, Potter. I’ve seen you study, you know. I know your secret.”

James puts a hand to his chest and gasps. “And here I wanted everyone to believe that I reached seventh year without handing in a single assignment.”

Lily only smirks at that, not rising to the bait, but Hermione almost does. Somehow, she doesn’t think James is being sarcastic at all. She hasn’t seen him or Sirius do a lick of work, except occasionally browsing their textbooks, in the whole time she’s been here. When do they do their work?

Before she can speak up, though, Sirius pipes up again, already bored with their conversation. “All right, I call the Hog’s Head! First rounds on me, as a much belated thank you to Granger for having given the Slytherins what they had coming to them!”

Now that Sirius is no longer being hostile toward all of them and Hermione can really appreciate the gravitational pull around his person. He has a charisma about him that makes others want to be his friend, an easiness of spirit that’s so light it floats up like a shining beacon, attracting all those searching for something beautiful in their lives. Of course, Sirius has his dark days, his mood swings, but it only brings more appeal to his person, somehow.

“What, Butterbeer this early?” Lily looks aghast. “It’s barely past noon. Besides, I wanted to get some shopping out of the way first.”

“I have some potion supplies to get as well,” Remus adds. Sirius rounds on him.

“But, Moony,” he whines, drawing out the double-o sound, “Butterbeer!”

Finally, they all decide that they’ll go their separate ways and meet up at the Hog’s Head when all their shopping has been done. Hermione watches them all scatter – Sirius dashes off to Honeydukes, Remus makes a beeline for the apothecary, and James and Lily head off together toward Scrivenshaft’s Quill Shop. Hermione doesn’t know if she should wait for them at the Hog’s Head or follow one of them.

One the one hand, if she stays rooted to the spot they may wonder why she’s not getting any shopping done, and Hermione really doesn’t want to explain her penniless situation. She starts going after James and Lily. At least she can do some good and act as a referee if they start going at each other again.

When Hermione looks up however, the sight she sees takes her by surprise. James and Lily are already deep in conversation. James is talking, gesticulating wildly with his arms every few seconds and Hermione hears Lily laugh, a genuinely surprised sound.

James and Lily haven’t been butting heads or ending every conversation frustrated with each other like they used to. Although they still bicker, there’s less venom in their words, and when one finally ups the other with the final word the result is a frustrated laugh and then a smile calling for a truce. Still, Hermione has never seen them get along this well and she’s never heard Lily laugh like that at something James has said before. 

It’s a beautiful sight, Hermione thinks right away. Those two are Harry’s parents, obviously getting along and finally growing close. It’s obvious they’re meant to be together. Hermione should be thrilled to see them this close.

But why does she feel so sad instead?

As though he feels her eyes on him, James turns around to look over his shoulder. He’s already smiling when he sees Hermione staring and this time, when he winks at her, Hermione doesn’t feel like it’s meant for her. James is obviously thrilled at having made Lily laugh, at being in Lily’s company. Is Hermione just in the way now?

Hermione feels like her heart is growing too big for her chest and her lungs are deflating. She can’t bear the sight of James and Lily being so close. James has stopped walking forward and he’s turned her way fully now. Lily turns around too, curious as to what has made James stop.

“Granger? Are you okay?”

Hermione thinks fast. “I forgot, I need some potion ingredients as well. I’ll see you guys at the Hog’s Head.” She turns around before James can reach her and dashes off. She hears Lily calling her name, but Hermione doesn’t slow down until she reaches the apothecary.

She yanks the door open and starts to barge her way in, nearly bumping into Remus who is on his way out.

“Granger? What’s wrong? What happened?”

Hermione only notices now how Remus’ face is blurred and how she’s breathing hard through her mouth because her nose is stuffed up. She forces herself to smile and wipes the tears from her cheeks.

“Nothing. A piece of dirt flew into my eyes.”

Remus looks utterly unconvinced.

“I’m fine, Lupin.” Hermione is scared she might actually start crying for real – shaking shoulders and a runny nose crying – if Remus presses the matter. As long as she keeps the image of Lily looking up at James with that wide smile from her mind, Hermione thinks she’ll be okay. “I just remembered that I had some potion ingredients to get as well.”

“I’ll wait for you.”

Hermione tries to look grateful. “I know you have more things to get. I only have a few things to grab so I’ll take my time. Kill some minutes, you know?”

Remus continues to look uncertain but he seems to realize that Hermione needs her space. “All right,” he says slowly. “I’ll see you later.”

Hermione waits until Remus has left the store. There are a handful of students browsing the selections and the few who witnessed the exchange shoot Hermione curious looks. Hermione ignores them all and pretends to scan the shelves, looking for what she needs.

In all truth, even if she did need something, Hermione hardly has the means to buy anything right now. Instead, she just pretends to be fascinated with every potion ingredient in the store. Thankfully, it does help to keep her mind off of her irrational and uncalled-for jealousy. Really, who is she to be jealous of James and Lily? She should be thrilled – this is what she’d been hoping for since the day she realized James had shifted his fancy.

Hermione mentally slaps herself. This is not what keeping her mind off of James and Lily feels like. Somehow, Hermione manages to turn her brain off and focus entirely on the wonderful variety of potion ingredients the store has to offer. By the time she thinks to look at the pendulum clock by the front door she realizes that she’s been zoning out for over an hour and a half. Surely everyone must be done shopping by now and waiting for her at the Hog’s Head.

The Hog’s Head is filled with rowdy Hogwarts students when Hermione walks in, but she sees her group of friends in the back. Thankfully, they managed to find a table. She takes a seat by Remus, trying to avoid Lily and James’ gazes. Now that she’s calmed down, she feels so embarrassed for the way she acted earlier. Breaking down in tears in the middle of the street? That’s not usually her style.

Thankfully, six Butterbeers are brought to their table and Sirius stands.

“A toast, to the biggest badass among us!” He raises his glass Hermione’s way and Hermione can’t help but laugh.

“Hear! Hear!” James says loudly and they all raise their glasses. Hermione can feel herself blushing.

Sirius sits back down. “I can’t wait to give it to those Slytherins myself. First Quidditch game, they’ll get what’s coming to them.”

“I hope you mean beating them using no dirty tactics or breaking every rule of the game?”

Sirius grins. “Sure, Evans, that’s exactly what I meant.”

The conversation quickly develops into a full-fledged debate on Gryffindor’s prospects for the House Cup which then digresses into discussions on the professional league.

By the time they leave the Hog’s Head Hermione’s head is spinning around like a bad Seeker looking for the snitch. Although she knows her fair share about Quidditch, James and Sirius throw out names and statistics faster than she can process them. Obviously they don’t read those Quidditch magazines purely for their image.

After they leave the Hog’s Head, they all idly walk the streets of Hogsmeade. James and Sirius are still caught up in one particular debate that the rest of them dropped out of long ago and Hermione can hear James getting frustrated.

“Who bloody cares if the Magpies are making a show of being the best? They are the bloody best!”

“They’re stripping the game of its spirit. It’s not just about trying to win anymore, it’s about bragging to the world about how it’s all so easy for them.”

“Maybe that’s because it is!”

“It is not! They don’t have a perfect winning streak, do they? No, they don’t. Maybe if they stopped creating petitions in Murray’s honor they’d get some more practice hours in and then they’d have something to be bragging about.”

“But the petitions are hilarious!”

Hermione and Lily roll their eyes as the argument starts full circle again. Peter disappears at one point and then reappears with a huge stash of candy which he shares with all of them. Hermione refuses the offer. She may be tolerating his presence, but she still can’t bring herself to accept anything from him. He still repulses her.

Somehow, they end up walking back to Hogwarts without agreeing to head back first. James and Sirius eventually give up on the Quidditch debate and start talking about new strategies they should try this year for their first match coming up in November.

“We’ll see you guys later,” James says when they’ve reached the castle entrance.

“Where are you going? It’s dinnertime.” Lily looks surprised as James and Sirius start turning around to walk back down the stairs.

“We’ve got to try out these new ideas, we’ll eat later!” And with that James and Sirius bound back down the steps and rush to the storage room where the school brooms are kept.

Lily rolls her eyes. “Those boys.” She turns to Hermione then, her expression grim. “Are you okay? I meant to ask you earlier, but I didn’t think I should with everyone around.”

Remus and Peter have already gone inside the castle. Apparently, Peter’s stomach wins over in the decision to follow his friends or go to dinner.

“Yes, I’m fine. Just, you and James together… It made me think of a friend of mine, is all,” Hermione gives Lily a small smile.

Lily’s expression melts and she squeezes Hermione’s arm sympathetically. “I know how it is to be homesick. Even writing letters doesn’t help much. It’s almost winter holiday, though. Will you be heading home? Maybe you can see your friend then?”

“Maybe,” Hermione says slowly, not liking the direction the conversation has taken. “I don’t know yet. Christmas is, ah, not a joyful time of the year for me. I don’t want to talk about it. Maybe I’ll stay here. ”

Lily nods, knowing better than to pry. “Come on,” she says with a small smile. “Let’s go eat.”

Hermione feels bad for deceiving Lily, but technically she didn’t lie. She tells herself that if James fancies Lily once more, she won’t stand in their way. She has no right to. This is what is meant to happen. She’ll be happy for them and she’ll encourage them, and she’ll squash her feelings for James because they were never meant to happen.

Chapter Text

The next morning at breakfast, Dumbledore announces to the whole school that the decision has finally been reached to send all of the sick students to St. Mungo’s for more specialized care. The Minister has finally judged the situation to have gone on for long enough, and has assigned the best Healers in the country to take care of the students.

“This is outrageous,” Lily hisses. “Madame Pomfrey is the best Healer in the country.”

Hermione shakes her head. “She can’t dedicate her time to researching their cause. She doesn’t have the necessary books or materials at her disposal, and she still has to take care of the other students. It’s not that she isn’t qualified for the job, it’s just that she doesn’t have the time.”

Madame Pomfrey sits at the staff table a few seats away from Dumbledore. She sits up straight with her held up high, but Hermione can see how white her lips look even from such a distance. She probably fought the Ministry every step of the way to keep the students here. But, as much as Hermione respects Madame Pomfrey and admires her, for once she thinks the Ministry is right to take the students away.

The whole day passes by in a blur as Hermione, Lily, James, Sirius, Remus and a whole squad of students volunteer to see the sick ones moved. Due to their situations, it has been decided that their constitutions is too delicate for them to be Floo’d or Apparated to London. Therefore, they have to be transported to Hogsmeade, where they are then going to be boarded onto the Hogwarts Express. Aurors will be at the station to see to it that the sick students are transported as gently and covertly as possible to the hospital.

It’s nearing the end of the afternoon when everyone treks back up to the school. There’s dejection in the air that lasts the whole week. It’s not a defeat for Madame Pomfrey but for the whole school, it appears, to have to acknowledge that sometimes even Hogwarts can’t solve every problem.

In their own way, the professors try and help the students keep their minds off of their friends and Housemates by handing out even more homework than usual, and for the first time since Hermione’s arrival at Hogwarts she finds herself sitting in the library between Sirius and James, all furiously scribbling away at their roll of parchments.

“The bloody Slytherins were just delighted at seeing the sick girls sent off,” Sirius seethes at one point. They had been studying quietly in the library and all of a sudden he just exploded.

A few students look up, surprised from their work, but thankfully no Syltherins are present to start a fight.

“Keep your voice down, you’ll get us kicked out,” Lily hisses. Still keeping her own voice quiet, she adds, “How do you even know this?”

“It’s not like it’s a secret, is it?” Sirius replies, but at least he keeps his voice down. Sirius is right. The Slytherins have been walking around with great big smiles on their faces while the rest of the school has been mourning the temporary loss. “Besides, my source tells me that they threw a celebration party when the girls were sent to St. Mungo’s.”

Lily looks sick. “Those bastards,” she whispers. “Have they no hearts?”

“No, that’s the point. And my brother was among them. That Hippogriff dung. You know, he was part of the Slytherin group torturing Dorcas last month? I won’t let him get away with that. I’m just biding my time until the perfect moment to extract some personal vengeance.”

“Your brother?” Hermione echoes, surprised. She hadn’t thought about it, but now picturing the Black family tapestry she remembers having seen a name beside Sirius’ scorched-out spot.

“Regulus Black, a spineless little toadie. He can’t think for himself. All he knows how to do is jump to my mother’s bark. He’s part of the You-Know-Who crew.”

“I’m sorry,” Lily whispers. “But their unpleasant alliances still doesn’t prove that they’re behind this.”

“I have to agree.” Hermione thinks of all the times Draco and his gang were behind unpleasant business. It’s not in Slytherin nature to hide their involvement in things they’re proud of, especially not when they think they’re alone. “As much as it pains me to give up our only lead I don’t think they’re the ones behind this.”

“They are!” Sirius speaks too loudly again, and a girl from a nearby table throws him a murderous look.

“Ssssh!”

“They’re behind this, I know they are,” he continuous, making a deliberate effort to keep his voice down. “There isn’t anyone else it could be.”

“There has to be,” Hermione insists. “Try to think hard. What could all those sick girls have in common?”

“What about those who lost their magical abilities?” Remus asks

“What about Evans? Who’d have anything against her?”

Sirius snorts. “Who wouldn’t? She takes away points like it’s going out of style.”

“I’m still here, Black.”

“Well, I’m sorry but it’s true. And I only say this because now I know you’re cool and we’re friends, but I used to think you were one stuck-up bitch. Come on, we all did,” he throws a pointed look at Peter, who averts his eyes. “You guys are wimps. All I’m saying is that I can see how someone would have a bone to pick with Evans if she took away their House points is all.”

“All right,” Hermione concedes, putting her hand gently on Lily’s arm before she can snap back. “Now, who would be the type of person to get pissed off enough about House points to attack Lily and what could that person have in common, or against, all of those sick girls?”

A silence falls over the table. Sirius runs his fingers through his hair and Peter chews furiously on the end of his pencil.

“I can’t think of anything those girls have in common,” James finally mutters. “They’re all so different. They have no activities or friends or House in common.”

“They’re not even all in the same year,” Lily whispers.

“But they are all older girls,” Hermione points out. “Fifth, sixth and seventh year girls, right? Why wouldn’t younger girls be targeted?”

“And why just Muggle-borns?”

“And why are no boys getting sick?”

“A puberty curse?” James holds up his hands when they all turn to stare at him. “What? I’m just throwing ideas out there.”

“Not bad, but many fourteen-year-old girls have already hit puberty. Besides, do Pureblood girls not hit puberty?”

Sirius snorts loudly. “It’s debatable,” he mutters darkly.

James shrugs. “It’s worth a look, no? Granger, why don’t we go back to the You-Know-Where?” he mutters quickly, casting a quick look at Madam Pince, who isn’t too far away. “See if we can find anything relating to puberty curses or something?”

Hermione’s pulse speeds up. Getting back under the cloak with James, being that close… She doesn’t know if she can handle it. Ever since Hogsmeade, she’s been trying to put some distance between them without looking like she’s avoiding him. “Oh, well, um, I don’t know, do you think we’d find anything? It’s been a dead end so far. Why don’t you and Lily go?”

“What?” Lily turns to stare at Hermione. “Gabi, you know I can’t do that. I’m a Prefect,” she hisses. “Besides, I have to patrol at night. I can’t just sneak off and go You-Know-Where.”

“Right.” Hermione rubs her eyebrow. What is she thinking? “Maybe when the workload eases up a bit. I’m behind on my essays as it is.” Hermione knows homework shouldn’t be her first concern in this world, but James and the others don’t know that and the excuse does its trick. Even Sirius and James are swamped.

“Yeah, I suppose so,” James sighs. “We’re going to be having two extra nights of Quidditch practice starting next week anyway,” he says. “We want to be in top shape for our first game in November.

“You’re already practicing four times a week. You’re all going to be too exhausted to play properly when game time comes around at this rate,” Lily says disapprovingly.

 James shrugs. “It wouldn’t be such a problem if we didn’t have so much bloody homework, but Quidditch has priority.”

“No it’s doesn’t!” Lily almost shouts, and then slaps a hand over her mouth.

Sirius laughs. “You’re cute when you get all fired up, Evans.”

“Please don’t make me barf, Black,” Lily snaps right back, which makes Sirius laugh even more.

Hermione and Remus exchange a look but Remus only rolls his eyes. He’s used to Sirius dismissively flirting with girls.

The weeks pass like this, though James and Sirius meet them in the library less and less, becoming increasingly obsessed with Quidditch practice. Hermione is almost thankful for this, thinking it’ll make it easier for her to avoid James, but he’s everywhere she turns.

At breakfast, he shows up after she’s sat done and plunks down beside her and leans in too close to say good morning, and Hermione’s heart flutters in her chest. In class, he sits in the seat behind her and spends his time trying to distract her by tickling her ear with his quill until Hermione turns around and rips it out of his hand and snaps it in half. The professor assigns Hermione extra homework for that and all James does is pull out a spare quill and start all over again. One night, when Hermione lets herself be dragged out of the library by Remus and Lily to attend a Gryffindor practice, James flies up to her in the bleachers and asks her to “Hang onto my scarf? I’m bloody hot!” and Hermione thinks she’ll die from the catcalls the seventh year boys throw her way.

“He likes you a lot, you fool!” Lily tells Hermione one night when they’re sitting on Hermione’s bed, comparing last-minute notes before bedtime. It’s the last thing Hermione wants to hear coming from Lily.

“You’re the one who’s been telling me to be careful and not to fall victim to his charms since the beginning.”

Lily sniffs and starts braiding her hair. She does so on nights when she’s washed her hair and in the morning she has lovely natural waves. “Well, that was before I really knew him. I think he’s sweet, actually. I think you two would make a cute couple.”

Hermione’s heart speeds up, both out of hope and jealousy. “You think he’s sweet? Do you like him?” She’s not sure how her voice sounds to Lily, but Lily pauses in her braiding and gives Hermione a long, strange stare.

Then she bursts out laughing. “You’re jealous! Oh, Gabi, you are positively seething right now. You’re adorable. Don’t you worry. I think James is a sweetheart as a friend. I’m not interested in the least in him like that. Besides, you’re the one he’s falling for now, not me.” She’s still giggling as she finishes up her braid and scoops up her notes and heads off to her own bed.

Hermione doesn’t feel adorable at all. In fact, she doesn’t know how she feels. She’s been here so long now that it feels that her goal isn’t so clear in her head anymore. She’s horrified that Lily doesn’t care for James in that way, and at the same time she’s never been happier about anything else. Yet, even though Hermione knows that she needs to get back home - and she does want to return and be with Harry and Ron - the longer she stays here the more she knows that her chances of returning to the life that’s really hers are slim at best. And why should she return? a malicious voice inside of her whispers. Why should she return if she knows she’s already messed up everything?

It snows on the last day of October, consequently the day before the first Quidditch game of the season.

Hermione wakes up to find the dorm window looking over a blinding white landscape. At first, Hermione thinks she’s still dreaming or that her eyes have become overly-sensitive to the sun, until she realizes that it’s the rays reflecting off of an unmarred and beautiful white snow.

The castle is rumbling with new life. A buoyant mood that had been all but destroyed when the sick students were transferred to St. Mungo’s resurfaces now, and the only conversation that can be heard in the Great Hall that morning is to, “Hurry up and eat so we can go out!”

It’s like the field’s white coating is more than snow, but rather it’s hope. A hope that the sick students will be all right, that the Slytherins aren’t as evil as they like to think that they are, and that the future will be as bright as the sunshine reflecting off of the frozen lake. Hermione feels sick knowing that this hope is so very much misplaced.

Remus won’t allow Lily and Hermione to stay cooped up that morning. “I love studying as much as you two, and I’m just as behind on my homework as well, but today is tradition. No one’s allowed inside on the first day of snowfall.”

Lily scoffs. “There’s no such rule!”

“Well, there’s no such rule against having a life either,” Remus says, and then all but pushes Hermione and Lily outside. Hermione has never seen Remus so energetic.

Sirius and James are already outside on their brooms. Hermione vaguely remembers them talking about an early morning practice the previous night, but she can’t believe that they actually went through with it. How can they tolerate the winds so high up in this cold weather? She herself has bundled up in the warmest hand-me-down cloak Hogwarts has to offer, which she cast an extra warmth spell on, and she’s still chilly.

Hermione is expecting Lily to lead her to the bleachers, where maybe they’ll watch the end of the Gryffindor practice, but instead she’s hit on the side of the head by a snowball. “What the…” Hermione looks up, expecting Sirius to have chucked it at her from above, but the Gryffindor team isn’t anywhere to be seen in the sky. In fact, when Hermione looks around for Lily, she can’t see her either.

Students are running everywhere and snowballs are starting to whiz through the air. Hermione is struck again in the shoulder before she can react.

“Get out of the range of fire.” Hermione turns her head but James is pushing her to move before she can reply.

“W-what the heck is going on?” Hermione wheezes out by the time they’ve stopped running. James has pulled her to the nearest tree. From safety, Hermione can see how students have assembled into teams and some are casting spells to create formidable snowy castles, garrisons, igloos – all kinds of modes of protection. Snow is flying high to form these impressive walls of protection and snowballs are soaring every which way. It looks like there’s a blizzard waging under the bright cold sun.

James laughs. “Don’t you guys have snowball fights at Beauxbatons?”

Hermione gapes up at James for a few minutes before she remembers her cover story. “Well, yes, I suppose, between friends. Nothing on this scale.” A silhouette, dark against the white fight, catches Hermione’s eyes. Is that Madam Hooch? Keeping score?

“Well, this is more of a ritual than anything else. On the first snowfall of the year all the Houses fight each other in a massive snowball fight. There’s never a winner or anything but Madam Hooch keeps an eye out to make sure that no one sends out iceballs or anything. Afterwards, we go in and have hot chocolate and biscuits.”

Hermione knows her mouth is still hanging open. Clearly, this ritual has lost its way over the years. It makes her sad to think of this. She can hear everyone laughing, having a good time attacking their fellow students. Nothing says House bonding like attacking the others with compressed snow.

Hermione feels a weight on her hair and looks up to see James smiling at her.

“You have a bunch of snow in your hair,” he laughs, and then reaches up again to pat it out of her hair.

Hermione notices how close they’re standing, and suddenly her throat constrict. When have they been this close, this isolated, since sneaking into the Restricted Section? She can’t think of a single moment.

Hermione realizes that James hadn’t meant to lead her here, away from everyone, but he has, and there’s no one to notice them or to interrupt them. Hermione can’t help but notice how James is smiling down at her. His eyes are looking warmly at her and his smile is too… too infatuated. It pulls Hermione in, even though she realizes at the same time with a sickly dread just how right Lily is; James doesn’t like Lily at all, not anymore.

James has stopped patting snow out of her hair. Now his fingers are brushing through the curls and then moving down to Hermione’s cheeks. His fingers are cold and wet but they feel good against her skin. Hermione likes the weight of them.

She knows she should push him away, tell him that no, this is not going to happen, ever, but for once Hermione’s feelings are winning over. What does it matter? When he’s already stopped caring for Lily? Just by being here in this world Hermione has already irreversibly altered the future. She didn’t plan on being here, and she never wanted James to shift his focus from Lily to her, but he has and Hermione likes it… and she wants more of his attention.

James must sense that Hermione is losing her internal battle with herself because he starts to lean in closer, and when Hermione doesn’t reach out to stop him or push him away, he leans in even more, until their lips are touching.

Hermione lets out a sigh and her eyes flutter shut. In that last moment, Hermione makes a decision she knows she’ll never be able to undo: she presses back into the kiss and steps closer, into James’ embrace.

The point of no return, Hermione thinks vaguely, as James spreads his arms to welcome her. For the moment, she doesn’t care. 

Chapter Text

There’s a strange buzzing aura around the Great Hall the next morning when Hermione and Lily make their way to breakfast. It’s the first Sunday of November and there’s a tense but excited tremor running through the school: it’s the first game of Quidditch Season. Slytherin vs. Gryffindor.

Sirius and James are already at the Gryffindor table, eating like starved castaways. Lily scrunches up her nose in disgust as the two girls sit down.

“Just because you’re nervous doesn’t mean you’re entitled to eat like pigs,” Lily says lightly as she reaches for her own food.

Sirius rolls his eyes and keeps attacking his breakfast but James startles. He looks over to Hermione and Hermione swears he blushes but the tint of pink could also be from the adrenaline of the impending game. He gives her a small wink and goes back to his food, though with more dignity this time.

They haven’t told anyone what happened between them yet. At least, Hermione is fairly certain James hasn’t told Sirius, otherwise Sirius would definitely have made a big show of it this morning, and Hermione hasn’t told Lily either. She knows she should, sooner rather than later, but she doesn’t even know what there is to tell yet. Does a kiss means that they’re going out? Or that they’re just kissing friends? Or what if James hated the kiss and it’s never going to happen again? Hermione slumps down on the bench and massages her temples. She feels like Ginny obsessing over her boyfriends. Other than the incident at the Yule Ball, Hermione has never let romance get the best of her.

“Besides,” Sirius is saying to Lily when Hermione focuses on the conversation again, “we’re not nervous in the least. We’re bloody excited. Opening game against Slytherin? We’ll crush them! Baby brother, here I come.” Sirius laughs, and the sound is demonic to Hermione’s ears; her arm hairs stand up at her sudden chill.

“I didn’t like the sound of that at all,” Lily says to Hermione after the boys have left the table, their team in tow to get ready for the game. Games are always early in the morning, as no one ever knows how long they’ll last. Hermione has read in Hogwarts: A History that the shortest game ever recorded at Hogwarts was 2 minutes long, while the slowest lasted well into Monday evening and all classes for the day had to be suspended because all students and professors were still on the pitch.

“They’re making it personal,” Lily continues, “and they shouldn’t. It’s going to get ugly and they’ll get in trouble.”

The game, however, is more than just ‘ugly.’ It’s, literally, a bloodbath from the first five minutes of game play. Sirius begins the game of violence with a Bludger Backbeat, a back-handed swing, which Regulus manages to avoid, only barely. It was like both sides had been waiting for that opening, like a recited dance, and after that the game is a mess of foul attacks, penalties and just Madam Hooch blowing on her whistle and yelling, “Blurting!” “Blocking!” “Blagging!” “Foul!”

Slytherin and Gryffindor both lose a player to blatant unsportsmanlike behavior, at which the crowd goes wild, booing and hissing the decision. All players on both teams are being unsportsmanlike! Hermione knows the expulsions are meant as a warning to the other team, but it doesn’t work as intended.

Shortly afterwards, the Slytherins perform a Parkin’s Pincer and their third Chaser collides so powerfully with Gryffindor’s Chaser that she falls off her broom. Madam Hooch catches her before she hits the ground, but the impact still sprained or broke her arm and the girl is sent to the infirmary.

Gryffindor gets a penalty shot for that and James scores ten points for Gryffindor. The score is 50-40 for Gryffindor and only through foul points. No one is playing Quidditch on the pitch. Hermione watches Sirius send every Bludger he finds towards Regulus, invalidating him from searching for the Snitch, and Hermione swears that at one point the Gryffindor Seeker is holding a Bludger Bat – is he even looking for the Snitch at all?

As the minutes pass, Hermione’s anger mounts until she’s shouting along with the rest of the spectators for them to, “Get their bloody act together!” She can’t believe Madam Hooch is allowing the teams to get away with such game play, although she spends most of her time blowing her whistle.

After half an hour of the game, Professor McGonagall walks onto the pitch. At first, no one sees her until she casts a powerful accio on the Quaffle and it goes flying to her. The Chasers are so busy trying to beat each other up that no one even notices the Quaffle missing from the game.

Madam Hooch blows furiously on her whistle until finally the players stop.

“Every player on this field,” Professor McGonagall’s voice rings out loudly over the pitch, “in Dumbledore’s office. This instant!”

“They had it coming. It would serve them right if they were banned for the season. They’ll be lucky if they don’t get expelled! What were they thinking?” Lily has been on a rant for the last fifteen minutes. As soon as the players had landed and gone off to Dumbledore’s office, Lily, Hermione, Remus and Peter had tried to make their way to the gargoyle statue as quickly as possible, though they had been hindered by the mass of students heading back up to the castle.

“They weren’t thinking,” Remus mumbles. He looks much calmer than Lily, who’s been pacing the halls, but Hermione sees how his eyes flicker uncertainly from side to side. He’s just as worried as Lily.

Hermione herself feels restless just standing there, but thankfully she doesn’t have to worry about imaging up worse-case scenarios since Lily is so helpfully listing them all out loud for them.

Eventually, the gargoyle statue growls to life and swings around, disappearing into the wall to reveal a staircase. It doesn’t take long before Professor Slughorn appears, followed by his team of Slytherins. Some look bashful, some have swollen faces and black and purple bruises, but most look angry.

The Slytherins are followed by Professor McGonagall and her Gryffindor team, although mostly all of them look like they’ve just received the worst spanking of their lives. James and Sirius are at the end of the row. James grins when he sees Hermione and slips an arm over her shoulders before she can protest and pulls her close.

Lily is too furious to notice. “What kind of behavior was that?” she hisses, trying not to attract Professor McGonagall’s attention, who must be in quite a state at the behavior displayed today. “If you wanted to get back at Slytherin, you should have played a clean game, not stoop to their level. Slytherin would have been humiliated to be defeated honorably…”

“Oh you can shove off with your honorable defeats,” Sirius snaps. Unlike James, he looks seriously pissed off. Hermione wonders if his ego is bruised by the fact that he wasn’t able to land a devastating blow on Regulus. “Besides,” he adds quickly when a look of pure horrifying indignity crosses Lily’s face, “no one was expelled. We got a slap on the wrist. “No more of this unsportsmanlike behavior,” or we’ll be banned from Quidditch for the rest of our years here.”

“You guys were lucky.” Hermione agrees with Lily although she can’t deny being glad at not having to be the voice of reason, for once.

Sirius doesn’t look like he considers himself lucky at all. “We only have a year and a half left to go. It would have been a fair price to pay to have given those damn Slytherins a taste of their own medicine.”

Professor McGonagall leaves them at the portrait of the Fat Lady. She looks angrier than Hermione’s ever seen her, and she wonders if James and Sirius know about her Quidditch incident and how much she hates foul play.

Hermione expects to find the common room one of two ways: a dejected atmosphere or angry resentment for having botched what should have been the most exciting day of the year. She does not expect to walk in to loud, excited talking and even some laughing.

Everyone is gathered in a circle around something, or someone, in the center of the room. James elbows his way through the first layer of students and Hermione, following close behind, recognizes one of the girls immediately: Miss Bailey, the first girl to get sick. The two other girls beside her, Hermione can only assume, must be the others who fell sick on the same day.

“No,” Bailey is saying, laughing. “They couldn’t say what was wrong with us. We just started feeling better and they had to discharge us.”

They look healthy, positively glowing in the spotlight. Everyone around them is talking at the same time, asking questions, wanting to know how the others are doing, how long it’ll take before they’ll get better.

The girls shake their heads, trying to look sad for their fellow students, but it’s obvious they’re too happy to be back to feel much sorrow right now. “Some are starting to get better, but the ones who fell sick last are still in bad shape. We’re just thankful to be out of there, to be honest.”

“Although from the sounds of it, we have so much homework to catch up on!” Everyone laughs when Bailey says this and she practically glows at the reaction.

Hermione elbows herself out of the crowd. “This doesn’t make any sense. Why would they suddenly fall sick only to get better with no treatment or reason?”

They move to the back of the common room where it’s a bit more isolated, though not much quieter.

“Dark magic,” Sirius says. “It’s got to be Dark magic. There’s no other explanation.”

“But Dark magic doesn’t make any sense!” Hermione insists. “It’s meant to control others and to make them suffer. It’s meant as a means to an end. What end has the caster obtained? What has changed that made the instigator release these girls, specifically?”

“Maybe he, or she, can’t reach them in St. Mungo’s?” Lily suggests. “And the effects of their spell or potion are wearing off because they’re out of his zone of control?”

“Maybe they’ve gotten bored? No one else has fallen sick in over a month, after all.”

“And most of the girls who lost their magical powers have been saying that it’s been coming back,” Remus adds.

“Mine hasn’t,” Lily says. “I try every morning, hoping… but it hasn’t come back. If anything, it’s gotten worse.”

“Maybe someone really does have a bone to pick with you, Evans,” Sirius tries to joke, but even he doesn’t seem to be into it and his eyes give away his concern.

They stand there, in gloomy silence while the others in the common room start yelling about a celebration. At least the arrival of the new students has effectively distracted everyone from the humiliating, aborted Quidditch match.

“I won’t be able to get any studying done in these conditions,” Lily grumbles as everyone starts cheering loudly and chanting, Party! Party! “Want to head to the library, Gabi?”

“Sure.” Hermione still has two assignments due for the next day that she hasn’t finished yet. She turns to James. “Do you want to tag along?”

“Nah, I think I’ll stick around and party some.”

Sirius and Remus have already headed off to join the mass of Gryffindors hurrying about to get things ready for the party.

“I think Sirius and I may have to make an impromptu visit to Hogsmeade for some supplies,” James laughs. Then suddenly he’s leaning down and whispering in her ear, “Meet me here tonight? After everyone’s gone to bed. Dress  warm.”

Hermione pulls back, blushing. “O-okay,” she agrees, her mind fuzzy at having him so close. They haven’t been alone or close since yesterday morning and their kiss in the snow, and her heart speeds up at what James has planned for them.

It’s a long day in the library, but it’s an even longer evening waiting for everyone to head off to bed. Thankfully, the celebration started so early in the morning that by the time evening rolls around mostly everyone is exhausted. Most of the students even take the party outside for some drunken snowball fights and when they stumble upstairs they head straight to their dorms to pass out. Still, the last of the more resistant partiers doesn’t head up to bed until midnight and Hermione has to pretend to be interested in her book about Goblin conquests and romance (she just found it lying around the common room) until then.

James comes bounding down the stairs only a few minutes after everyone has gone to bed. Hermione suspects he’s been in his room with the map out to make himself look like he has perfect intuition.

“So what do you have planned?” Hermione asks but James only grins and takes her hand. He has the invisibility cloak draped over his other arm.

When they exit the common room, he pulls her close to him and kisses her. It’s a much more passionate kiss than their first one, more pressure, and then James is parting his lips and deepening the kiss and Hermione lets him until she realizes that they’re standing in the middle of the hallway, snogging, after curfew where anyone could just walk up to them and punish them.

“We should put the invisibility cloak on now, don’t you think?” she whispers after she’s broken away from the kiss.

“Hmm?” James’ eyes are still closed and he licks his lips slowly. “What’s that?”

“The cloak. You do have something planned, don’t you?”

James finally comes back to his senses and the smile he gives her is loose, like he doesn’t quite have his facial muscles back under control yet. “Oh, right, yes. Come on.”

He throws the invisibility cloak over the both of them and Hermione thinks, for one crazy moment, that he’s going to take her to the Restricted Section to continue their research and she feels like a fool for thinking he had anything romantic planned for them.

Thankfully, James steers away from the direction of the library and it doesn’t take long for Hermione to know where he’s taking her. Since she’s not supposed to know any of the school’s secrets she does her best to look confused when James stops in front of a portrait of a gigantic bowl of fruit, takes off the invisibility cloak, and starts to tickle the pear. She tries her best to look astonished when the pear suddenly turns into a door handle.

“This better not be another secret passage to Hogsmeade.” Hermione tries not to laugh when James turns around and looks at her with a smug smile.

“I have more than that up my sleeve. Don’t you have secrets at your school?”

Hermione shrugs. How should she know? “Not that I know of.” She lets herself be led into the kitchens.

For a few seconds, the whole kitchen is dark and silent. Hermione has a wild thought that James is about to cook up a romantic meal himself and they’ll conjure up a few candles and… then the lights turn on and a dozen bleary-eyed House Elves blink up at them.

Hermione’s good mood suddenly comes crashing down. They’ve woken up the House Elves! Of course, the poor things must have been getting some much-needed shuteye, and here they are waking them up and now they’re going to feel obligated to serve them.

A part of Hermione wants to hand them all the clothing she has, and then James’, but then that would just leave them both naked. Hermione’s face grows hot at the idea. She doesn’t think she’s ready for that just quite yet.

The House Elves are clamoring around James. “James Potter, sir, good evening! What will James Potter be desiring tonight?”

“Actually, why don’t James and I make our own snacks tonight? You guys can all go back to sleep if you’d like?” Hermione smiles at them, but they all just turn as if surprised to see someone with James and then, when her words register, they look confused. A few look putout.

James laughs. “I think you’ve insulted them, Granger.”

Hermione bites her tongue before she can go off on a rant about how Hogwarts mistreats its House Elves, how overworked they are without any individual freedom whatsoever.

“We would never treat James Potter, sir, so badly,” one of the House Elves finally says, his tone implying that Hermione is the rudest person to their beloved James Potter. So Hermione lets herself be seated while the House Elves go about making them food.

She pushes down her activist self if only for the reason that she doesn’t want to influence James more than she already has. The wellbeing and work rights of House Elves were not exactly a hot topic issue in the mid-1970s, Hermione knows. Heck, it wasn’t in her time either, until she started talking to everyone about it, and even then most cared too much about their way of life to listen to her. Hermione knows that Harry and Ron would be rolling their eyes at her right now.

Harry and Ron.

The thought of her best friends stabs her like a needle jabbing her chest from the inside. She tries not to think about what reality she’ll have to adapt to when she returns but they continually slip into her thoughts anyway, and the longer she stays here the guiltier she feels for not trying harder to return home. It’s getting harder and harder to remind herself that as great as the Marauders are they’re not her true friends. More importantly, they’re not hers to be friends with.

“Hermione?”

There’s a distant voice calling her, and for a second, Hermione thinks it’s Harry, that she’s sitting next to Harry and that this has just been one long, beautifully stressful daydream. But she’s looking into clear light brown eyes with flecks of green. This isn’t Harry, but it’s not Harry’s dad either. Not yet, at least. His hands are on hers, and it’s then that she realizes that she has been wringing her fingers. Her thumb throbs faintly from having been bent a bit too far back.

Her mind feels foggy and heavy and it’s hard to focus on what James is saying.

“Are you all right?”

Hermione should say no, that she’s not fine, that she’s tired and needs to go back to bed – tomorrow is Monday, after all – and then she should distance herself from the Marauders, do some damage control and try to steer events back on the right track in hopes of minimizing the changes done to the past, and then find a way home as quickly as possible.

But Hermione isn’t quite that strong, and she can feel the tension inside of her that tugs her towards James and that makes her lean forward and press her forehead on his shoulder and let his arms pull her in closer. She likes the strong feeling of his arms as he holds her against him. She feels safe, anchored down and protected. Like this, Hermione calms down and feels her brain clear. Whatever happens, she thinks, she won’t regret her decision. She doesn’t have it in her to.

“I’m fine,” she finally answers. “I just started thinking about a friend of mine. She’s very big on House Elf independence. I guess I just got a bit homesick thinking of her, is all.”

“House Elf independence?” James echoes and Hermione can practically feel him smile. “Now there’s a funny notion.”

Hermione is about to pull away and demand to know what’s just so funny about it when the House Elves return with their food: leftover roast chicken from dinner, sausages, rolls, pastries and a jug full of what Hermione suspects to be pumpkin juice. They bring it all to them in two neatly-packed baskets. This is not the first time James has come to the kitchen for some takeout.

Hermione takes one of the baskets from a House Elf and makes eye contact with her. “Thank you.”

The House Elf looks away immediately. Next to her, Hermione hears James mumble out an awkward, “Yeah, thanks.” The House Elves shuffle their feet and mutter something about being delighted to serve them and then scurry off, no doubt back to bed.

James grins at her. “A friend of yours is interested in House Elf rights, huh?” Hermione knows she’s been caught out, but instead of rolling his eyes at her cause like so many have James just keeps grinning at her. Hermione doesn’t know where to look so she smiles back awkwardly. No one has ever looked at her like this, like she’s awesome and amazing.

“You’re one wacky lady,” James says as he comes closer. He leans down and slowly, softly, his hand comes up to frame her jaw, this thumb moving back and forth against her cheek.

They stand like that, holding baskets of food and kissing until James finally pulls away. His eyes are glazed over and his lips are red and shining. “Come on, it’s getting a bit late.”

James throws the invisibility cloak over them again and grabs the two baskets while Hermione takes the jug. He leads her outside and Hermione is glad that James thought of reminding her to dress warmly. The night air is cold, but it’s a dry kind of weather and it feels nice, especially since it’s a calm night with no freezing wind.

The sky is completely void of clouds and riddled with stars. The half-moon is shining bright and they can see the whole white grounds stretching out before them.

James takes them to the frozen lake where he finally takes off the invisibility cloak and puts the baskets on the ground. Then, he pulls out his wand and conjures up a thick blanket that he spreads out on the ground.

They sit there and pull out the food and stare out at the frozen lake, the ice glowing from the moon’s reflection and there’s something so romantic about Hogwarts at night, with the stars out and the calm silence.

They eat the chicken with their fingers and James feeds her one of the oysters and then leans in until Hermione lets herself fall onto her back. He hovers there above her for a second and then he kisses her. They kiss like that, languidly, for what feels like hours, their lips slick with chicken grease.

After a while, James rolls off of her and onto his back by her side, taking her hand in the same movement and twining their fingers together.

“Do you bring all the girls out here?” Hermione jokes lightly after they’ve been looking at the stars for a little while. They’ve barely said three words since they’ve been out. It isn’t awkward, but Hermione feels like she should say something now, after all that kissing.

James laughs. “No, actually, I’ve never brought any girl anywhere. I suppose I would have liked to bring Lily at one point, but that’s all in the past now.”

Hermione really didn’t want to have to think about Lily now of all times, but she supposed she did ask for it.

“Actually, Sirius gave me the idea.”

“Sirius?” Hermione laughs. “I didn’t know you’d told them. About us, I mean.”

“I didn’t! He just told me last night after Quidditch practice that I should bring you to the kitchens and then we should have a picnic out by the lake. He said it was very romantic. Sirius using the word romantic… I was baffled.”

Hermione laughs and grins. “Even Sirius has many layers. There’s more to him than even you’d suspect, I think.”

Hermione sees James turn his head toward her out of the corner of her eye. “You know, these days I’ve been thinking that maybe you know Sirius even better than I do. Should I be jealous?”

“No! Goodness no. Your best friend only has eyes for someone else.”

James sits up. “Now you’re just yanking my chain. Sirius in love? He’d have told me. Who’s the girl?”

Hermione shrugs and begins to put away the food. She regrets having said anything. She doesn’t know if Sirius or Remus want to tell their friends yet. She feels like smacking herself for being so comfortable around James and letting that slip. “I mean, I don’t really know. It’s just a hunch.”

She must sound convincing enough because James lies back down, seemingly in a trance. “I wonder who it could be,” he mumbles to himself.

“Well, stop your wondering. I’m sure he’ll tell you when he’s ready. We should head back. I’d like at least an hour or two of sleep before classes tomorrow.”

James pulls Hermione down by the arm until she’s half-sprawled over his chest. He kisses her softly three times on the lips. “Let’s just stay here forever,” he whispers.

How tempting, Hermione thinks. If only I could.

Hermione eventually manages to convince James that someone will find them, sooner rather than later, and his brilliant plan will be foiled, so he reluctantly stands and uses the Vanishing spell on the blanket and carries the baskets as they make their way back to the common room.

The common room is a mess from the party, and Hermione is furious at her Housemates for having left the place in such a state for the House Elves to clean up.

“Even with magic, people are still lazy,” she hisses. She brings out her wand. “Come on, give me a hand.”

It takes them all of fifteen minutes to stack all of the garbage in one neat pile in the center of the room and to Scourgify the mess made in other places. Hermione puts the two baskets and the jug of juice by the rest of the dishes and garbage.

“There, now they’ll just have to pick everything up and move on to their other duties,” Hermione says, feeling rather proud of themselves.

James pulls her in and kisses her. “Mmm, I can’t stop kissing you,” he says. “What if you came back up with me to my—”

“I don’t think so,” Hermione cuts him off, half-laughing and half-horrified James would even think such a thing. In the same dorm as Sirius and Remus and – the thought sends a shiver through her – Peter? “Good night, James.”

“Good night, Granger.”

James doesn’t let go of Hermione to let her leave for another five minutes.

In bed, Hermione feels the rush of adrenaline more clearly and she finds herself unable to fall asleep. She relives through the night again – the fresh air, the black and white sky, the food, James. She can still feel the pressure of his lips and the weight of him against her. Her body hums with pleasure at the memory even though her brain is starting to catch up with the knowledge that this happiness won’t last long.

Just a week, Hermione thinks to herself, deluded by happiness and love. She’ll allow herself another week to indulge in her feelings, to fool herself into believing she’s allowed to have this, that it’s not wrong or dangerous. After that week, she’ll double her efforts on returning home and she won’t think about anything else.

Chapter Text

Hermione’s last week of self-indulgence is cut short the very next day.

They’re in the middle of Defense Against the Dark Arts, the last class of the day, when the Head Boy knocks on the door and barges in without waiting for permission. He gives the room one sweeping glance and then races to the professor. The two talk in hurried whispers for only a few moments before the professor turns back to the classroom.

“Pack up your things right now and head to the Great Hall.”

Everyone is too confused to be panicked but there’s a very different atmosphere in the Great Hall. Instead of the four House tables being set up, the Great Hall is completely empty and everyone is mingling. The sound of over three hundred students talking loudly amongst themselves is deafening. Adding to that the high-pitched notes of hysteria in some girls’ voices and Hermione can already feel a headache coming on.

“What’s going on?” Lily asks the nearest girl, a Ravenclaw, Hermione thinks. More students keep pouring into the Great Hall and now professors are converging at the front of the room. Still no Dumbledore, though.

“It was crazy scary,” the girl whispers. “We were just doing our Herbology practical and then all of a sudden Mary starts convulsing and windows started to break and our plants started to levitate… It was like when you’re a kid, you know, and your magic kind of does freaky things? Well, this was freaky and violent and a thousand times worse. Professor Sprout actually had to stun her or something so she’d stop, then she sent one of us to get Dumbledore and then now we’re all here…”

When Dumbledore enters the room it takes only moments for hundreds of students to fall silent.

“It appears that a most unfortunate epidemic has breached our walls.” Whereas usually Dumbledore’s voice provides encouragement or solutions or hope, today he sounds defeated; today he actually sounds old. “This disease is one with magical qualities that we have never seen before and we have been urged by the Ministry to send all affected students to St. Mungo’s. Therefore, tomorrow there will be no classes and we will be testing every student on the potency of their magic. All students with diminished magical abilities will be immediately transferred to St. Mungo’s. There will be no exceptions.”

Panicked and furious whispering breaks out at those words, which Dumbledore patiently waits out. Finally, students quiet down again and he continues.

“We ask that students please retire to their dorms for the night. Exceptionally, dinner will be served in the House common rooms. Please do not panic or worry if you are affected. You will be placed in the care of the best Healers at St. Mungo’s until a cure is discovered. I urge of any students who may have knowledge of the curse’s origins, or who may suspect anything of the curse’s origins, to come and speak to me.” Dumbledore’s gaze sweeps over the room and Hermione has the uncanny feeling that he lingers on her. She swallows hard and tries not to look away.

Lily follows Hermione to their dorms after all students are told to return to their common rooms for the night. Hermione has never seen the place so packed full of students. They can barely turn around without bumping into each other. She has no idea how they’re going to be able to eat supper.

“We should go… You-Know-Where tonight.”

Hermione is putting away her books for the day. The textbooks she duplicated have begun to deteriorate. Hermione has noticed that the words on some pages have begun to fade away. She starts to think that she’ll need to ask James for his textbooks again when she catches herself. No, she needs to be gone before the books completely disappear. They can be her timeline, her visual reminder to speed up her research. She blinks when realizes what Lily has said.

“I thought… being a Prefect and all.” Although they’re the only two in their dorm room, Hermione knows they have to be careful. Any of the girls could just walk in, and considering what has happened today just the mention of sneaking out or the Restricted Section could be more than enough to send them running to Dumbledore.

“You heard Professor Dumbledore. Tomorrow, I’ll be carted off to St. Mungo’s to die of boredom. I want to be useful and if that means going You-Know-Where, then so be it. Even if we don’t find anything, and we probably won’t, I’ll feel better knowing at least I tried rather than staying in bed unable to sleep.”

Hermione closes her trunk carefully and tries not to sound too enthusiastic about the plan. It’s the exact opportunity she’s been looking for, the perfect timing to get her hands on that book.

“You’re right. We’ve been neglecting the research and now girls are getting sick again. I’ll ask James if we can borrow his invisibility cloak.”

Lily nods. She looks resolute, like this is going to break her heart but she’s ready with the superglue. “After everyone’s gone to bed then.”

Hermione goes back down to the common room. It’s not as loud as it could have been with so many students crowded around, but a lot of students have retreated to their dorms with their friends and the panic has subsided a bit. Instead of talking loudly to one another, people have broken off into groups and are at least using their indoor voices.

The boys are by their usual spot in front of the fireplace. Hermione wonders if everyone just stays away from that spot or if Sirius glowers angrily at anyone who’s there until they scamper off. James moves over on the couch when he sees Hermione approach and Hermione lets herself flop down beside him as James drapes his arm over her shoulders. “How’s Evans holding up?”

Hermione nods. “She’s tough. She wants to go You-Know-Where tonight. Can we borrow your cloak?”

James’ eyes widen. “She does? She’s going to willingly break the rules?”

“Wouldn’t you if… No wait, scratch that. She wants to be useful. Being a Prefect won’t matter too much in St. Mungo’s.”

“Of course you can borrow my cloak. Do you want me to come along?”

Hermione picks up James’ hand and kisses it. It breaks her heart how much she does want him to come. “I think I should just go with her. Besides, it wouldn’t do for us to get distracted, would it?”

James laughs and buries his face in Hermione’s neck. “I love the way you’re starting to think, Granger.” He kisses her neck and then her ear, and then Hermione pushes him away before he can do any more than that. Memories of Ron and Lavender and their disgusting displays of public affection flash through her mind. She doesn’t want to be one of those people.

James doesn’t seem to mind, he just sinks back into the couch grinning smugly and watches Sirius destroy Remus and Peter at Exploding Snaps.

As it turns out, Dumbledore must have given some second thoughts about the logistics of so many students eating dinner in the common room because dinner is served in the dorms. Lily and Hermione take their dinners up to the boys’ dorm room and Lily sits on a chair while Hermione sits on James’ bed with him. Lily’s eyes widen a fraction at seeing this but then she shoots Hermione a half-smile and Hermione knows that she isn’t surprised. Lily knew that this was coming.

It’s a bittersweet evening. The certainty that soon Lily won’t be among them hangs over their heads, and none of them are much in the mood to talk or joke around. After dinner, Lily and Hermione call it an early night. Hermione figures she’ll catch a few hours of shuteye before the Restricted Section while Lily settles down with a book.

Hermione wakes up to Lily shaking her awake. It takes her a minute to remember what they have to do. Hermione wipes the sleep from her eyes and slips on socks and her shoes.

When they reach the Restricted Section they slip off the invisibility cloak.

“The section on the Dark Arts is further back,” Hermione whispers. “There were a few books James and I noticed that may be interesting to take a look at in these first sections but we didn’t get around to it last time. I’ll start here and then come join you if I can’t find anything.” Lily nods and heads off towards the back.

It takes Hermione three trips down the same aisle to find the book again. In her hurry, she skips over the title and it’s only when she forces herself to slow down and look at each book that she finds it. Her heart heavy with anticipation, Hermione pulls it off the shelf and turns to the introduction.

It’s with a light heart that I leave my old world behind. I, Timotwyn Warghollow, have gotten my hands on a Time-Turner and I mean to make the most of it.

I do not intend to go back and intentionally change the past. I do not intend to give my younger self better advice. All that would be futile because what I desire is to go back to simpler times. I am sick of this consumption era and its liberal-minded do-gooders. I will use the Time-Turner to go back 500 years, where I will then live out the rest of my days as a wanderer.

It has taken me a decade to perfect the spell, but I have altered this Time-Turner so that every turn takes me back 100 years instead of an hour. In 5 easy turns I will be where I belong.

I will travel these lost times and I will write about my findings. When I die, I will reveal my recordings to the world and I will be remembered, throughout the ages, so that even in the future, my present, will people know of me.

The words sent cold shivers down Hermione’s spine. It’s only a short introduction, but already she feels like this Warghollow was not entirely in his right mind. Still, this is more than she ever found from the more-accessible material in the library. He went back in time past his birth year! This is exactly what she has been looking for.

Hermione flips to the back of the book and runs her finger through the index until one word pops out at her that she wasn’t expecting: sickness. Her heart hammers in her chest. Looking closer, she sees that there are several instances of the word. Hermione skips to the first occurrence, page 122, and is surprised to see it’s a section all on its own.

Sickness 

There have been some peculiar happenings lately. In towns where I wander, especially those I linger in, people start to fall ill around me.

The symptoms were typical flu-like, at first: high fevers, vomiting, shivers, and sweating. In this time era, the flu is a murderous villain. However, the longer I stay in a village that I have recorded, the more varied become the symptoms. Men in these villages have been reporting an inability to cast any magical spells, even the most rudimentary, while his neighbor will report that his eldest child has completely lost all control of his, despite being a credited, talented wizard.

Not knowing of my past, no one blames me for these strange phenomena, but I can’t help but wonder… Is this a disease that I have brought along with me from the future?

Warghollow goes on to elaborate on the varied cures they administer to the sick men, to no avail. Eventually, Warghollow writes that he departs from the villages and no longer stays more than two weeks in the same place. He does not appear to be wrought by guilt for having brought along a disease from the future – if that is indeed what it is – and instead praises himself for his ability to be able to pick up and move on. A letter from a friend in one of the villages Warghollow lingered at reveals that since his departure the afflicted villagers have slowly started recuperating their healths. Instead of seeing this as a sign that Warghollow must return to his own timeline, this reaffirms Warhollow’s decision to move swiftly through villages. The man’s self-assurance and narcissism makes Hermione want to punch him. It was irresponsible abusers like him that finally pushed the Ministry to lock all Time-Turners under key and only hand them out to individuals who have undergone extensive scrutiny.

Still, Warghollow’s account is invaluable and the realization that Hermione is doing this to the girls… Hermione pulls out the Time-Turner from under her robes. The sand levels in both levels of the hourglass have not changed, like an invisible plug is preventing all movement. Hermione tries turning it again, but it refuses to budge. Frustrated, she puts it away.

Hermione feels cold all over. It’s because of her that all the girls are becoming ill. All girls, too, no boys, just like Warghollow doesn’t account for any women falling sick in his journal, only men. A disease that only affects one’s own gender? This disease is becoming more and more convoluted, Hermione thinks.

It’s not a Pureblood curse or malediction and she suddenly wishes that it were. At least to that she could have found out which curse and directed her hatred somewhere. Now, can she really direct her hatred toward herself? She never meant for any of this to happen and yet, it has. She has caused countless girls at the school to become violently sick and if she doesn’t leave, only more will succumb to the same fate.

Hermione closes the book and puts it back on the shelf. How could she be so daft as to forget that time-travelling has repercussions? Yes, she knew about affecting the future, but she hadn’t given a single moment’s thought to the short-term consequences. She got swept away by her connection with Lily and Remus, her controlling obsession to fix things between Sirius and Remus, and then somewhere along the way they became more than the allies she knows in her world, they became dear friends, equals, and then… James, of course.

What if he found out? What if Sirius found out?  They would hate her, surely… But no, they would all understand that Hermione has no control over this. Hermione forces herself to stop thinking such thoughts. Their opinion of her is of no consequence because they will never find out. Hermione will figure out a way home and then. And then what? Hermione asks herself. Does she even have a home to return to?

A shadow moves out of her corner of her eye and Hermione nearly jumps out of her skin. Thankfully, she doesn’t scream. It’s only Lily.

“Sorry,” she whispers, and then giggles softly. “I didn’t realize you were so deep in thought. Did you find anything?”

Hermione shakes her head, her heart still galloping in her chest. “Did you?”

“No. I wasn’t expecting any brilliant results either, but this utter lack of anything is really quite depressing.” Lily leans forward a little bit and frowns. “Are you all right? Your eyes look swollen.”

Hermione brings her hands up to her cheeks but they’re dry and so are her eyes. “Yes, I’m fine. Just exhausted is all. Let’s go back then.”

When they get back to their dorm, Hermione folds up the invisibility cloak and sets it inside her trunk. Lily pulls her into a hug when she stands.

“You’ll write to me, won’t you? When I’m over there.”

“Of course.” Hermione can’t look Lily in the eyes, knowing what fate she’s assigned her to. What if Lily never regains her magical powers? Hermione feels sick just at the thought.

Lily smiles. “Hopefully they’ll figure out what’s wrong with me before Christmas. If you don’t go home to your parents you’ve just got to come visit me.”

Hermione smiles tightly. “That’s sounds great, Lily.”

They say goodnight and get in their respective beds.

In the morning, when Hermione wakes up, Lily’s bed is empty and her trunk is gone.

Chapter Text

Hermione immediately panics and then anger rears up inside of her. How dare Lily go to take the magic test without waking her first.

One of her roommates comes in at that moment, toweling her wet hair. When she sees Hermione sitting up in bed, she stops in her tracks.

“You’re awake.”

“Of course I am.”  Hermione looks over at the clock. She’s actually overslept. Still, isn’t it early for the professors to begin testing students? Most haven’t even had breakfast yet. “Has Lily gone to take the test?”

“Lily…” There’s a curious expression on the girl’s face as she lowers her hands. “Lily was sent to St. Mungo’s. She woke us all up at around five am, throwing up and having fits of pain. It was really scary. None of the other girls were in as much pain.”

A heavy sickness balls up in Hermione’s stomach; she’s scared she’ll throw up right there. “Why didn’t any of you wake me?” she somehow manages to whisper.

“We did. We were shaking you and everything but you just wouldn’t budge. That was also scary. It was like you were comatose or something.”

It’s all Hermione’s fault, and Lily is the one suffering because Hermione has been too selfish to speed up her researching process. She has become entranced with the light emitting from the Marauders, by her feelings for James, and now Lily is paying the price.

Hermione is ashamed of herself. Here she is, setting deadlines weeks away for herself to start finding a solution. She needs to figure out what happened now. She can’t wait until Christmas break any longer to have undisrupted research time. Hermione needs help, and in this time era there’s only one person she can go ask – Dumbledore.

Hermione spends the day planning everything out, when she’ll go and what she’ll say. She realizes that if she does talk to Dumbledore and if he even believes her, he may not let her return to classes or to the common room to say goodbye to James or the others. So before Hermione even thinks of going to see Dumbledore, she thinks of how she can say goodbye to James.

“Meet me in the common room tonight and bring your invisibility cloak,” Hermione tells James at dinner that night. It’s been a very long day and there are conspicuous empty seats at the table of every House where students – girls, all girls – should have been. Others have made the connection now too, and the running whispers are that there’s a Muggle-hating misogynist on the loose in Hogwarts. If only they knew.

“Do you really think we’ll find anything new?” Even James and Sirius look dejected. All Quidditch has been cancelled, but Hermione knows they don’t care about that in the least. They’d actually cancelled their practice last night before Professor McGonagall announced a hiatus on the whole season this morning at breakfast.

Lily’s absence from their group that evening hangs over them like a black cloud of death. The sit at their usual spot in the common room, but tonight there’s no joking or laughing or even small talk. Sirius is actually doing homework - perhaps to honor Lily’s memory, Hermione thinks – and James just stares at the fireplace, seemingly lost in thought.

Students trickle upstairs fairly early that evening. Everyone is emotionally drained, and even though Hermione suspects most of them will stay awake all night staring up at the ceiling and thinking of how Hogwarts has lost its charm now that their friends aren’t around, it’s at least better than pretending to be busy in the common room.

James goes up to his dorm room at one point to get his invisibility cloak, and when the last student has finally gone upstairs to bed they say goodnight to Sirius who’s still scratching away at his roll of parchment and slip on the invisibility cloak.

“Where are we going?” James whispers when Hermione deviates from the path to the library.

She doesn’t answer, but leads him along.

“Granger, you do know that there’s nothing up here?” he whispers when they’ve reached the seventh floor.

Hermione feels rather silly as she forces James to walk past the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy three times, but on the third time a door appears and James stares slack-jawed at her.

“What in the bloody hell…”James trails off as Hermione opens the door and ushers them inside.

The room is just like how Hermione wanted. It’s not a very big room, but there’s a crackling fireplace at one end with a big cushiony-looking couch and then a large king-sized bed with a hundred pillows and a deep red blanket.

James has taken the invisibility cloak off and places it over the arm of the couch. “Did you plan all of this?”

Hermione shrugs and smiles. In a way, she supposes she did. “I just wanted us to be alone.” She feels like she needs to explain, so James doesn’t get the wrong impression that Hermione is expecting anything. “Especially after today, I thought we could use some time with just the two of us somewhere that’s not the Restricted Section or outside.” Or the kitchens, with the House Elves peering at them curiously with their bulging, watery eyes.

“I know what happened to Lily must be hardest on you.” James turns to her and hugs her, and his fingers caress her hair. He can’t run his fingers through the strands because of her curls, but he seems to enjoy just delicately touching her hair, like his fingertips are getting to know her. Hermione likes the feeling of his hands against her hair.

She wonders if James heard about how no one had been able to wake her up when Lily had been having a fit of pain. If he has, he doesn’t bring it up and Hermione is so grateful that he doesn’t. She wonders what it all means, if this is really a disease or something more ominous, something that really does have no cure, even her departure. Warghollow did not mention replying to his friend’s letter, and Hermione didn’t have enough time to read through the whole memoir and find out if Warghollow ever returned to those villages and if his effect on the peoples in them had any permanent and lasting damage.

James holds her tightly for a long time, and Hermione finds that even though her mind wanders in his embrace, her thoughts don’t evoke panic like they usually do. James holds her down, steadies her physically and emotionally.

Eventually, James stirs. First, he kisses her forehead and then he tilts her head back and kisses her softly, and then more deeply when Hermione opens to his request. They kiss slowly; James’ hands move over her chest, her waist and her back, and Hermione sighs into the kiss, presses up against his body for more.

James pulls away to pull Hermione’s robe over her head and Hermione returns the favor. They press up against each other, naked except for their underwear, letting their hands explore each other’s bodies and their lips convey their feelings.

At one point, James steers Hermione over to the bed and pulls back the covers. There’s no passionate lust that makes Hermione’s mind go hazy and unable to make the right decision. It’s a slow, building accumulation of feelings and love that makes her knowingly and willingly get on the bed and spread her arms to pull James down on top of her.

Even if this is wrong, it feels right, and Hermione doesn’t second-guess herself. James doesn’t ask if she’s sure, if she’s ready. He’s gentle and careful, but neither of them says a word. They let their bodies guide each other and intimately communicate their feelings.

“You should come to my place for the Winter holiday.”

Hermione’s lying on her back and James is lying snug up against her, one elbow propped to hold his head up as he draws circles on Hermione’s abdomen.

Hours have gone by since they’ve entered the room and now Hermione feels her eyelids drooping. The heat from the fireplace and the warmth from James’ body are making her sleepy.

“Mmm,” Hermione smiles softly, imaging herself meeting Mr. and Mrs. Potter, being introduced as James’ girlfriend, sleeping in his bed, and even further, spending lazy, hot summer days window-shopping together in Diagon Alley, meeting up with Remus and Sirius and Lily who’s gotten better. All things Hermione will never do but will dream of long after she’s gone and James is dead. “That would be lovely,” she whispers, feeling herself drifting off.

“It would be. So you’ll come?” James’ soft voice washes over her and Hermione just smiles. She can’t lie to James but she can’t refuse him and shatter the moment. James is persistent though. “Hermione?”

Hermione shoots up, nearly slamming her head against James’ who only manages to pull back at the last second.

“What did you call me?”

James looks sheepish. “That’s your name, isn’t it? Hermione Granger.”

“H-how…”

“Please don’t be angry. I thought you would tell me eventually, but you’ve never brought it up. I have a map, you see… Sirius, Remus and I created a map of Hogwarts and then we charmed it, and we can see where everyone is on it at all times and it shows their name. You show up as Hermione Granger.”

Of course, the Maurader’s Map. Hermione should have remembered, but they hadn’t brought it up and she hadn’t even questioned that her real name would show up. She tries to think fast. “Gabrielle is my middle name,” she says. “I prefer it.”

James looks so guilty that Hermione takes his hand and moves in closer to him and kisses his cheek. “You can call me Hermione,” she whispers. “I like the way you say it.”

James hugs her and then pulls them back down onto the bed. He kisses her cheek and her neck and Hermione lets herself drift off in his embrace. She thinks, at one point during the night when her mind is heavy and slow with sleep, that James is still holding her and that he’s whispering in her ear. “Hermione. I love you.” But she drifts off again and in the morning, when she wakes up and James is rolled up in the blankets away from her, the words echo in the back of her mind like a vague memory and Hermione isn’t sure if she heard or dreamt them.

Chapter Text

Hermione doesn't get a chance to sneak away and go to Dumbledore's office until two days later. As if sensing what she's planning, James won't leave Hermione's side. He showers her with kisses when he thinks no one is looking or when people are looking but he thinks Hermione will let him get away with it anyway. Hermione would let him get away with anything right now. She'd let him whisk her away from Hogwarts and build a shack in the middle of a forest somewhere, and they'd live off the land and be free to love each and forget about Voldemort and people dying and the future crumbling. Hermione wishes he would.

Instead, the permanent gloomy mood around the castle keeps her in touch with reality, this time around. Hermione doesn't think she's heard a single person laugh since the day the Hufflepuff girl lost control of her magic and everything went downhill from there. It's as if the whole castle is holding its breath for the Pureblood fanatic to drop the other shoe. What's next? People wonder. People dropping dead without warning?

Hermione doesn't intend to stick around and find out.

On Friday evening, she fakes a migraine and heads up to bed before dinner. She tosses and turns and watches the seconds tick by until somehow it's finally past 3 am and Hermione drags herself out of bed.

It takes Professor McGonagall a whole five minutes before answering the knock at her office door.

"Miss Granger? What in the world are you doing up at this hour?"

"I need to see Professor Dumbledore. It's urgent."

Professor McGonagall doesn't ask questions, maybe it's because of Dumbledore's request for all students to talk to him personally or maybe it's because she can hear the desperation in Hermione's voice. Either way, she momentarily disappears to change out of her night robe and fix her hair before taking Hermione to Dumbledore's office.

They don't have to wait long before being admitted. He's sitting at his desk reading a book when Professor McGonagall leads Hermione in.

"Ah, Miss Granger. Please, sit."

Hermione sits. In her apprehension, the speech she had prepared for Dumbledore slips out of her mind.

Dumbledore turns to Professor McGonagall. "Thank you, Minerva. That will be all." Professor McGonagall hesitates, obviously preferring to be here to hear the so-called urgent news, but then she relents. She smiles to Dumbledore and closes the great oak door behind her on her way out.

"I expected you to come to me sooner, Miss Granger."

Hermione blinks. Well, that wasn't the greeting she had been anticipating. "Excuse me?"

"I looked into your mind when you arrived. A strict necessity to evaluate the purity of your intentions. It was quite plain to see that you were not being entirely honest with me, and to put Minerva's mind at ease I took, as you youngsters are prone to saying these days, a little peek."

"You– what?! So you've known all along? Why didn't you say anything about the sickness? Why didn't you warn me?"

"You had to figure these things out on your own. Everything happens for a reason, Miss Granger."

Hermione wants to jump out of her chair, take Dumbledore by the shoulders and shake him so he'll wake up and make sense. She checks herself just in time, after jumping up. "But it doesn't! There is no reason here! I made a mistake. Now I've ruined everything – Lily's health, Harry's life. I've probably even given Voldemort a free pass to his unchecked reign of terror." Saying these words out loud are much more devastating than having thought them to herself all these months.

Hermione slumps back down on the chair. She feels like crying. "I don't want to go home to a ruined future," she whispers. "But I know I can't stay here." Hermione wouldn't be happy leading a wandering life, like Warghollow, and she knows she couldn't tolerate living in the middle of nowhere in a makeshift shack hunting for food every day. She needs her friends. She needs Ron and Harry, although she may have ruined that for herself forever.

"The answer will come to you." The way Dumbledore looks at her, Hermione thinks he looks rather sad, almost defeated.

"Wait. I came here to you for help. You're supposed to help me get out of this mess. You gave me the time-turner in the first place!"

Dumbledore shakes his head sadly. "I have much knowledge and many answers, but this one is not one of them. If I gave you the time-turner, I know that I had a good reason. Unfortunately, even I cannot know the mind of my older self. This is something only you can fix, Hermione."

What a waste of time! Hermione thinks as she storms out of the office. She should have known. Aren't Harry, Ron and herself always the ones who put their lives in danger and fix everything at Hogwarts? Dumbledore imparts his words of wisdom, but in the end he's a back-seat spectator. Hermione heaves a sigh. Well, maybe she'll be glad to hand the reigns to someone else when she's 150 years old as well.

Still, the bottled rage pushes against the cork stopper. Hermione watches the gargoyle statue swing shut behind her. She pulls the time-turner out from beneath her collar and then slips the necklace off altogether.

She hates this little, malicious timepiece with a burning fervor. How many problems has it generated over the centuries? It's a good thing that they all were destroyed last year. Hermione wishes Dumbledore had never given her this one.

Hermione has half a mind to smash it against the solid stone wall.

A distant crashing noise snaps Hermione out of her angry stupor. It takes her a moment to realize that she is no longer holding the timepiece.

"Oh no!" Hermione runs to the gargoyle statue and kneels. The time-turner must be made of something stronger than delicate glass because on first inspection, it looks fine.

Hermione slips the necklace around her neck and turns the timepiece over in her hand. There's a fissure along the side of the hourglass. Hermione puts a very gentle finger to it, but even that pressure is too much and the hourglass suddenly shatters. Tiny pieces of glass and sand spill out into her open palm.

Hermione blinks awake. Except she hadn't even really been sleeping in the first place. She recognizes the feeling of having time-travelled instantly, that sudden awakening of the conscious mind. Hermione's hand is still spread open before her, filled with sand and small pieces of glass.

It takes Hermione a moment to realize where she is – outside of the Great Hall. She can hear the loud and excited clattering of voices. She looks at the clock above the Great Hall. It's nine.

Hermione tips her hand and watches as the sand trickles off her palm and onto the floor. She knows, instinctively, that she's no longer in the Marauder's era. She's almost too terrified to walk through the doors of the Great Hall and find out what timeline she is in. Hermione takes a deep breath. She only has herself to blame for things being different.

She steps through the doors. A few heads turn at her entrance, but they don't stare. Their eyes wash over her with little interest.

Hermione's heart hammers painfully against her ribcage. Some faces look familiar – is she just imagining it? She turns her head toward the Gryffindor table and her heart soars at a glimpse of red hair, then it plummets again. The hair is much too flamboyant to be Lily.

In her trance, it takes Hermione a few moments to actually recognize the faces – Ginny, Fred, Ron… but no Harry.

She's returned. This is her present. Hermione can barely allow herself to breathe as she sits at the table across from Ron, who's in a lively discussion with Neville.

After a few moments he realizes Hermione is there and turns to her. "Blimey, Hermione, you look like you've seen You-Know-Who or something."

Hermione looks at him, terrified. "What?"

"Terrible. You look terrible." Ron is already losing patience with her. He's drumming his fingers on the table, and despite the ruckus the noise is driving Hermione mad. Not knowing what she's changed is driving her mad.

Obviously, her friends are still alive. Obviously, her friends are still her friends. But that doesn't mean everything is the same. Hermione can't bring herself to ask about Harry. What if no one knows him?

A gentle hand on her shoulder startles Hermione. It's Ginny, looking over at her with frowning eyebrows. "Are you all right? I saw you come in, but not Harry. Is he okay?"

It's like a feeling of déjà-vu and Hermione wants to stand and hug Ginny and whisper to her thank you thank you thank you. Instead she remains seated and shakes her head.

"No, I didn't see him."

Ginny keeps frowning at Hermione, although her expression morphs slowly from one of concern into one of confusion. Hermione knows she's acting oddly, but this is too much to take in all at once. They're all alive, they're all friends, Harry is still missing and yet Hermione knows she didn't just drift off and dream up her whole experience.

She can feel it in her veins and in the way she lets her eyes wander around the Great Hall, and the way her breath hitches when she catches glimpse of dark red, nearly auburn hair. It wasn't a dream. It was all real and there were repercussions. There have to be.

Suddenly, a shadow slumps down on the bench beside Hermione. She turns and for a second she thinks she's gone insane. It's James, sliding down beside her like it's the most natural thing in the world.

Before she can stop herself, Hermione grabs his arm. Her first instinct is to pull him close and kiss him and thank him for following her here. Instead, her reasonable self kicks in. "What are you doing—" The words die out in her throat when James turns his head and those green eyes connect with hers.

It's not James. Of course, it's not James. It's Harry.

Disappointment and relief tear at Hermione's heart. She lets her hand drop and looks away. This isn't possible. She knows that this isn't possible. She changed everything, she took James away from Lily… How can Harry exist, still looking exactly the same, still with that lightning-bolt scar on his forehead.

"Are you all right, Harry? What in the bloody hell happened? Hermione was ready to wait for you in the hall all night!"

Hermione half-listens to Harry's story about tracking Draco down, getting found out and hexed and kicked in the face.

Hermione rubs her eyes and reaches up to her neck where she can feel the line of the necklace beneath the collar of her robes. Maybe she has gone insane after all? Maybe she broke the time-turner before turning it, and then she went into shock and her brain created all of her adventures, her love for James Potter, to absolve her guilt?

It doesn't sound like her at all, but listening to Ron rage about that bloody dirty bastard and the revenge they should execute, Hermione can't think of any other reason that this future, her past present, is still the same. It should have been altered. By all dictates of logic, Harry shouldn't exist and so many of them should be dead from Voldemort's reign.

For the next month, Hermione finds herself just going through the motions. How could she have dreamed everything when this is the reality that feels like a dream to her? She breezes through the assignments handed out in her N.E.W.T classes as though she had just done them recently, which in a way she has. Although some of professors are different, most of them are the same and they've changed their curriculum very little in the last eighteen years. Hermione's professors don't treat her any differently than before and none seem to remember her from what seems to Hermione as being only a few days ago, but what to them is nearly two decades.

At first, Ron and Harry try to talk to Hermione, deduce some logical explanation for her behavior, but Hermione can't very well tell them the truth and she brushes them off – feminine worries, she mutters – and after that they don't ask any questions. Hermione is thankful that they don't follow her up to the library either. Every time she sees Harry, that stabbing needle resurfaces. Hermione is certain she must have serious internal bleeding by now.

In a way, the painful ache inside of her reassures her. She's never been in love before, never been heartbroken, so how could she feel this miserable if she had dreamed everything? She tries to act like she's fine around Ron and Harry and everyone else, and even though they can see something is off, they have no idea what it is. At night, Hermione casts a soundproof spell around her curtains and she cries herself to sleep.

It's not only that she misses James, and his easy smile and his immature, boyish jokes, or the way he looked at her like she was someone special. She misses all of that, yes, but what really tears her heart apart at night is that she knows he's dead. If Harry is still alive, if he has that scar, that means Hermione didn't change the future and James and Lily are both dead. It makes no sense, how this has happened, and Hermione is glad that Harry was born and is still her friend, but another part of her hates him for it now.

Hermione floats through the days, trying to not think of James and Sirius and Lily every waking moment, but it's hard not to when these people she was good friends with only the other day are now dead, and have been for over fifteen years now. It's a bad nightmare Hermione knows she can't wake up from.

She keeps the time-turner around her neck. It's stupid, because the hourglass isn't even there anymore and all that remains are the two welded rings and a circle where the glass used to be.

Hermione puts her finger through the two rings. It's hollow, just like how she feels inside. She's lying in bed, and tonight the pain is stronger than usual. There's no one she can talk to about what she lived through. Harry and Ron wouldn't believe her, and even if they did how could she explain that she fell in love with Harry's dad and acted on it knowing full well the threats it implied to their lives? It would be the ultimate betrayal.

Hermione turns the two rings. She's disappointed when she doesn't feel that tell-tale gap of memory when you know you've fallen asleep at one point. She closes a fist around the two rings and brings it up to her forehead as she feels the pain evolve into sorrow and the tears start falling down her cheeks. It's a feeling she's coming to know well.

Later, after she's cried her heart out and she feels empty and worthless, Hermione gets up out of bed. The time-turner was bad news from the start. It got her into the mess in the first place and then it broke her heart by tearing her away from there. Its emptiness does nothing but remind her of her own. She hates it; its weight and presence burns at her mind every waking moment. She opens her trunk and throws it carelessly inside. She shuts the trunk and crawls back into bed, trying hard to forget everything that has happened.

One morning, well into October, Professor McGonagall stops Hermione as she, Harry and Ron are heading to class.

"Headmaster Dumbledore would like a word with you," she tells Hermione.

Hermione had debated going to see Dumbledore herself when she'd returned, but she couldn't bear to think of him being disappointed in her for having misused the time-turner, and when he hadn't called on her himself Hermione thought that maybe he'd forgotten about having met her so many years ago.

Her heart sinks when Professor McGonagall delivers the message. Ron and Harry stare at Hermione, puzzled.

"Blimey, Hermione, what did you do?"

"Should we come as well, Professor?"

"No, you two can head to class. The headmaster wants to see Miss Granger alone."

Hermione swallows thickly and mentally prepares herself to be berated. Dumbledore, she knows, would never yell at her or even be condescending but also she knows he can be disappointed, and that this can be much worse than having someone yell or be angry at you.

Professor McGonagall doesn't lead Hermione to the gargoyle statue, however, but to the Hogwarts entrance. Hermione is about to ask Professor McGonagall what's going on when the doors open and someone enters the castle.

Hermione feels as though her heart stops. "Professor Lupin," she whispers. Except he's not only her former professor anymore. Finally, Hermione's fears and hopes are confirmed as she and Remus lock eyes and she sees sorrow and joy and all the conflicting emotions she's feeling reflected there. She isn't crazy. She wasn't dreaming or compensating for her clumsiness. It happened and Remus lived through it too.

Hermione looks over her shoulder but Professor McGonagall has left and Hermione realizes there was no meeting with Dumbledore. She walks up to Remus hesitantly, almost scared of how their meeting will go.

Without even speaking, Remus holds the door open for her and they walk down the steps. They walk in silence until they reach the lake. It's a Tuesday morning and everyone is in class. The Quidditch pitch is completely deserted and it's quiet and peaceful by the lake. It hasn't snowed yet but the temperature has dropped since September. Winter can't be far off. The slow swishing of the water is comforting, although it reminds Hermione of the night James and she spent here.

When they stop by the dock, Remus takes Hermione by the shoulders and pulls her into a hug. Hermione hugs him back, but this is more than a hug and she can feel it too. It's a reunion. It's a confirmation that they share a link only they can understand, one to Lily and Sirius and James. Hermione knows she's about to cry but then Remus pulls away and the cold rush of air where Remus' body just was calms her.

"I thought I dreamt it," Hermione whispers finally, as they both stare off into the distance of the lake's surface. It's crazy to imagine, sometimes, that there's a whole population beneath the calm surface, a city holding people who have a hierarchy and rules and feelings. "It doesn't seem real or right that nothing has changed. I thought everything would be different."

Remus nods. "Dumbledore told us you'd come to see him and that you wanted to return home."

"You must have hated me." Hermione can't speak with more than a whisper. Otherwise, she knows she'll cry. She must have disappointed them all.

To her surprise, Remus shakes his head. "I won't deny that you broke James' heart, but none of us could believe that you'd hurt us on purpose. After you left, there were no more mysterious causes of students falling sick or losing control of their magic, or losing their magic entirely. Eventually, the girls at St. Mungo's got better and they returned to Hogwarts, and things just went on as normal."

"It was because of me," Hermione says eventually. "I didn't understand it then, but I think somehow I must have been draining their magic to sustain myself, because I didn't belong. Lily suffered the worst of it because of our proximity."

"We figured it out, you know. Well, Lily and James did. They suspected there was something more that you couldn't tell us because it was bigger than all of us. When James told Lily your real name she insisted they go back to the Restricted Section because she remembered how you looked that night you both went there. She said you'd looked like you'd received the worse news in the world, like your parents had died. So they went back and they found the book on time travel and it all made so much sense."

"But… James and Lily," Hermione shakes her head now. Her mind is reeling with all of this new information. They'd found out. They hadn't hated her but they'd found out and somehow it didn't change her world. She feels like she doesn't deserve this. She doesn't deserve Remus talking to her like an equal, a friend, after what she put them through. She doesn't deserve Harry's friendship after what she almost did to him. "Nothing has changed. How is that possible?"

"I can only tell you what happened as I know it. Whether this is the past as you knew it, you'll have to tell me. What I do know is that Lily and James would never have gotten together if you hadn't brought them close as friends first. Lily would never have believed James could change if you hadn't changed him. After you disappeared and Lily got better, she and James grew even closer. I had Sirius, but it was like you left a hole in their lives that they tried to fill as best as they could with each other.

James really changed after you left. He was more serious and focused, and I think Lily felt like she could really rely on him. And then there was the war, and it seemed normal for them to lean on each other and support each other. I suppose it was really only a matter of time before they fell in love. It was nothing like how James loved you, I don't think, but I also don't think Lily minded him thinking of you from time to time because she never forgot you either. It was more like he'd loved you and now he loved Lily but your memory remained with both of them. It just seemed right."

Hermione has to sit. The grass is cold with mildew, and it soaks right through her robes but she doesn't care. She hasn't fucked things up. She feels so terribly happy that she starts to cry. It's not just happiness either, but for the first time since she's been back she mourns Lily and James as a friend mourns a friend and as a lover mourns a lover.

Remus sits beside her and pulls her close to him so that her head is pressed up against his chest. He doesn't talk, only rubs her back until finally she's cried herself out and she can only breathe heavily through her mouth.

"When Harry was born, James insisted on the name. He said that was the first thing you ever said to him. You were this bizarre, gorgeous girl who'd barged into our compartment and called him Harry and barged your way into his heart at the same time. Naming their son after you was Lily and James' way of keeping you close to them, I think."

The situation is so absurd, so paradoxical, that Hermione starts to laugh. She pulls back from Remus and is startled to see him smiling as well.

Hermione reaches out and takes Remus' hands in hers. She doesn't ask him about Sirius because she knows they'll talk about it, eventually, when Remus is ready. "It's so good to see you again, Moony." Hermione feels like she can call him that now, after everything.

Remus squeezes her hand. "I'm glad to have you back, finally."

Hermione nods and they both fall silent again. They must sit like that, bums wet and growing cold, staring out at the lake for a good hour or so. Hermione knows that she has a long time ahead of her before she can learn to deal with the pain of having lost James, before her heart mends and before she can let herself love someone else.

In this moment, however, as she sits beside Remus, knowing that he understands her pain and that he shares her past, the weight she's been carrying around with her since she's been back suddenly lifts off of her shoulders and chest. Hermione can see that future day when she knows she'll wake up and no longer feel like this empty shell, yearning for a time when she wasn't even alive.

She knows this day won't be any time soon, but in this instant she knows it'll come, and right now, that's good enough for her.

Hermione inhales deeply. The cold air is sharp in her lungs. The feeling of it wakes her up.

After they part ways, Hermione runs back to the Gryffindor common room. She rushes to her dorm and throws open her trunk. Her heart is beating wildly as though she's not even sure if the necklace will be there, but it is – it slid down to the bottom of the trunk but Hermione pulls it out.

Her relief is so strong when she holds the two circles in the center of her palm that she brings them up and kisses them. She was a fool to think she could forget everything happened by throwing the necklace into the bottom of the trunk, but worse of all, it's an insult to her friends – to Lily, James, Sirius and Remus who believed in her long after she'd left them.

Hermione slips the necklace over her neck and puts it under the collar of her robe. The metal rings reach down her chest, right past her bosom; the metal rings are heavy and warm against her skin, but Hermione knows that they're right where they should be: by her heart.