Yesterday is Tomorrow (Everything is Connected)

SEVENTEEN

The Stranger: What do you think? Can we change the course of events?

H.G. Tannhaus: Any scientist would tell you "no." Causal determinism forbids it. But it is human nature to believe that we play a role in our own lives. That our actions can change things.

- Dark, S1E8, "As You Sow, So You Shall Reap"

October 1977

The first DA-but-not-DA meeting was utterly disastrous.

The second, third, and fourth weren't much better, but by the time they neared Halloween, Hermione thought they finally hit their stride.

Initially, Sirius was the most vocal – but certainly not the only one disappointed – when Hermione channeled her inner Harry and declared that their first lesson was expelliarmus. Even James's face had comically fallen.

"There's no point teaching you spells if you can't hit your target," she argued passionately, red in the face as Sirius scoffed.

"I thought this was a defense class, Evans, what good is going back to basics going to teach me?" he asked, tossing his wavy hair. He had his arms crossed with his wand in one hand and looked to be one more word away from tapping his foot as well.

Scowling, Hermione turned, walking toward Regulus and Barty, both who were struggling to hide their shit-eating grins. She ignored Sirius, who was still speaking.

"I get that she's your girlfriend, mate, but I think you oversold her capabilities—"

In a flash, Hermione had turned, wand drawn but held low against her hip. In the same motion, her spell hit Sirius. He yelped just as his wand was torn from his hand, protectively tucked against his bicep in his crossed arm position. It sailed through the air and Hermione caught it with a summoning charm.

"Does that answer your question?"

James's mouth was hanging open. "Bloody hell, that was quick…"

Sirius cleared his throat and wiggled his fingers at Hermione. He looked distinctly queasy without his wand. "My wand, please?"

Hermione wordlessly tossed it back at Sirius, who gripped it tightly and angled his body away from her. The rest of the room either moved closer to her or shuffled where they stood.

"Where's your wand?" asked Peter, rising from the desk. He was at such an angle he couldn't see her hand pressed against her thigh.

Hermione turned partially so he could see. "Here. Low, from my hip." Her mouth twisted a bit into a wry grin. "My gunslinger's move."

"I'll say," muttered Marlene, leaning forward with an interested gleam to her eyes. It was the most animated and positive Hermione had ever seen her act toward her. "Why not waist height or a typical dueller's stance?"

Hermione scoffed. "Dueller's stance? Please! What good are flourishes and honour in battle?"

Lily looked perturbed. "But it's the right thing to do…"

"In any other duel, yes," agreed Hermione, nodding at her sister. "In school, in a training exercise, not a problem. But if you're here because you want to know how to fight – and fight against what's going on out there – then bowing your head and using useless flourishes is only going to get you killed."

"But where's the honour in a fight like that?" asked James, frowning. He crossed his arms.

"Seriously, Potter?" Barty let out a bitter laugh. "Where was your honour when you'd bully the younger students in the halls? Where was your honour when you'd attack Snape for just – oh, what was the word that Pettigrew used? – existing, that's it!" He was breathing harder, now. "Where was your fucking honour that night—"

"Barty." Hermione's voice was firm but low. "That's enough. Not here."

Marlene, Mary, Phoebe, and Dirk were confused, their heads swiveling back and forth between Barty and James. Barty was red-faced, glaring hotly at James, whose shoulders were slumped.

Lily's mouth was open, like she was realizing that there was far more that had gone on that evening; that there was far more to Hermione's injuries than she had ever let her sister know. When her eyes shrewdly turned to Remus, Hermione knew she had begun to connect the dots.

"We are not here to rehash personal issues," said Hermione, quietly. "We're here to learn to fight."

That, plus Barty's heated words, seemed to sober the group, and everyone easily paired with someone else. Hermione, deciding that keeping Barty separate from the rest of the group would be best, partnered with him. She demonstrated her quick draw again but explained it had taken her years to get to that point, and that they should focus more on aiming true for the first little while.

Sirius and Regulus eagerly partnered – barely having the opportunity to spend time together – with matching, teeth-barred grins. Lily and Marlene partnered, leaving Remus, Dirk, Peter, and James to figure out who would go with whom; eventually, Dirk and Peter paired, and James paired with Remus.

After a few demonstrations, Hermione let Barty practice disarming her of her wand, despite both – and Regulus, for that matter – were beyond that in their own wand and spellwork. They couldn't practice their wandless magic, not with the others around, but Barty did try a few nonverbal expelliarmus attempts, which worked well.

After that session, Hermione moved them through Harry's old schedule, building up to the patronus – telling them to focus on a happy memory. "The stronger the memory, the stronger your patronus."

"What's yours then?" asked a curious Phoebe, twirling her blonde hair around a finger.

Hermione sighed. "A patronus is your guardian. Kind of an avatar of yourself in animal form." She caught the Marauders all share a glance. "In a way, it's private. I know I can cast the patronus, but I'd prefer not to share what mine looks like."

Mainly because I'm not sure it'll still be an otter, she mentally grimaced. Surrounded by her sister, boyfriend, and their friends, most of whom were strangers to her, was not who she wanted around when she tried the spell. What if she didn't think it was an accurate representation of Hermione Evans? What if she didn't like what appeared? Tonks' had changed to a wolf when she fell for Remus – which was terribly problematic on its own, why hadn't Remus's patronus change to hers? – and Hermione wasn't sure she could handle her patronus being a doe. While she was happy with James, she didn't want to be defined by him.

"Has a patronus ever not been an animal?" asked Dirk, scratching at his chin with his wand.

Hermione winced at him, eyes trained on his wand. Something that sounded like Mad-Eye Moody thundered through her ears: … will blow off your buttock, boy! "Not to my knowledge. Why do you ask?"

He grinned. "Wouldn't it be wicked if your patronus was Luke Skywalker? Or- Or, like, Merlin?"

Hermione grinned back. "Let me know if that works for you."

Dirk settled into a determined face, his floppy hair getting in front of his glasses as he nodded and then scrunched his face up, clearly thinking hard of a happy memory.

Everyone watched eagerly, and then the sixth-year Gryffindor muttered, "Expecto Patronum," causing a tiny, tiny, white wisp to emerge from his wand.

There was exclamations of surprise and cheers, causing him to pop his eyes open. "Did I do it?"

"Almost!" Sirius raced forward and clapped Dirk hard on the shoulder, causing his glasses to slide down his nose and nearly trip forward. "That was brilliant! Me next!"

Sirius managed a wisp as well; as did Lily, James, and Phoebe. But Remus, Peter, Marlene, and Mary had trouble.

"It's not something that comes quickly," cautioned Hermione, trying to cheer them up. "And there could be many reasons for it: your memory isn't happy enough, or you don't have a full enough picture of the memory to hold on to. You might not be pushing enough magic into the spell, or your pronunciation is off. Practice is really the only thing that will work."

Remus and Marlene both looked determined while Peter looked a bit afraid of his own wand, staring at it. "I'll never get it…"

But Mary smiled and cheered the last Marauder up, placing a hand on his arm. "Sure you will, Peter! Like Hermione said, it takes practice. We can work together, in the Common Room, if you'd like."

Apparently, Peter did like, because he blushed and said a sincere thank you to the fellow Gryffindor, who seemed to blush back.

Who knew? thought Hermione, fighting back a grin as she turned from the two Gryffindors. Defense tutoring also doubles as matchmaking.

December 1977

Petunia's flat was a dingy, tiny hole in the wall on an estate in Peckham, which made Hermione cringe a bit as her Granger-self subconsciously took center stage. Peckham was very different to Cheam, where she grew up – but a part of her, her Evans-self, shrugged and whispered Peckham and Cokeworth aren't that different. Stop being such a snob.

Sean's father had parked his Vauxhall around the corner and was waiting – or guarding – the car while Sean, Petunia, and Hermione carried luggage and boxes up the five flights of stairs to their new flat, where James had the door propped open by an ugly, ornate vase in bright lime green.

Petunia eyed it as they approached, and James shrugged. "Sorry – it was the ugliest thing I could find, and I figured you wouldn't mind it being used as a doorstop."

Petunia sighed. "That's fine. Vernon Dursley gave it to me earlier today as a housewarming present. He said his mother picked it out."

Overhearing, Hermione choked from where she was bringing up the rear. "You still speak to that git?"

Petunia shot her a look. "He's in my advanced accounting class. He's really one of the best students, so I'd like to remain friendly to get his notes and study help."

Hermione turned to stare at Sean, who shrugged. "As long as he doesn't come around."

"Of course not," sniffed Petunia, sweeping past them into the flat.

In-between hauling boxes up and then unpacking, James, Hermione, Sean, and Petunia engaged in small conversation until the two men gravitated to each other and ended up in the bedroom, putting together the bed frame, while Hermione and Petunia were in the kitchen, sorting out the utensils in what cupboard or drawer.

"Peckham's very different to Cokeworth," began Hermione cautiously. "Are you going to be okay here?"

Petunia shot her a look. "The only difference is the number of high rises, Hermione." She paused. "And Cockney accents."

"Pet—" Sean poked his head into the kitchen, making both Evans girls turn to face him. He grinned. "James and I were getting hungry, so we're thinking of doing a food run. Anything you fancy?"

Petunia shrugged, and Hermione was the same. Sean dragged James with him out of the flat, the curious Gryffindor peppering him with questions as they left. Petunia and Hermione rummaged to find plates and rinsed them off, and by the time they were done setting the table after locating everything, the two had returned. James was wide-eyed.

"What's wrong?" asked Hermione to James as Sean put the carry-out bags in a free space on the counter.

"Some kid started off on him as we returned," answered Sean with a shrug.

"Is that what he said?" asked James, wondrous. "I couldn't understand a thing he said!"

"There was something about a fancy-dressed ponce and puffed-up nonce, but the rest wasn't worth repeating," grinned Sean. He held out a box to James who took it tentatively. "Noodles?"

James peered down at the box, staring at their dinner. There were noodles – as in, pasta – and then there were noodles, of the Asian variety, and it was clear that despite Sirius and James's rebellious nature, they hadn't wandered into Muggle London as much as they implied. Hermione bit back a grin and hid it behind her own Chinese takeout, taking the chopsticks Petunia passed her.

Eventually, the four were at the table, Sean passing cans around. Hermione held hers up in a toast, aimed at the two who were going to be living so far away from her, now. "To Sean and Petunia, and your first place together. Congratulations!"

James eagerly joined in, giving a rousing cheer that made Petunia blush.

"To Petunia," continued Sean, giving his girlfriend a soppy grin. "One year and a bit left into her program, and then she's – technically – a journalist. And to Pet, for finding that job at the private detectives' firm!"

"Here, here!" cheered Hermione, clonking her can against Petunia's. The eldest Evans sister was beet-red at this point.

"To Hermione," added James, grinning as everyone turned to him. "For being brave enough to say 'yes' to visit my parents this Yule."

Hermione rolled her eyes while Sean snickered, and Petunia rolled her eyes. "I've met your parents before, berk."

"Not like this you haven't," he argued with the grin still on his face. Still, everyone had a sip of their beer.

Then, as the toasting trailed off, Sean squirmed in his seat and turned a bit red and pale simultaneously. "Erm. While we're here…"

Everyone turned to him.

He cleared his throat, turning in his chair to face Petunia. She blinked at him; her chopsticks suspended in the air above her meal. "Sean…?"

"Pet. Petunia." He cleared his throat again. "We've been… we've been together now, since year ten and you've been… you've been the best thing that happened to me. Every morning when I get up, you're the first thing I think about. You're who I want to spend my days with and when you're not around, I want to share everything I do with you the moment I see you. Moving in with you means you're the last thing I see before I go to sleep, too. Even seven years later, I learn something new about you, every day. I never want that to stop."

Petunia's eyes were misty and Hermione was frozen, staring wide-eyed as history changed in front of her. She was so nervous when Vernon Dursley appeared…

Sean slid off his chair and knelt. He fished a tiny box out of his trouser pockets, his hands shaking as he did so. He flipped it open.

Petunia gasped.

"Petunia," began Sean, his voice trembling, "Will you marry me?"

Hermione held her breath.

"Yes," breathed Petunia, and then said, louder, "Yes – yes, of course!"

She slid off her chair to kneel in front of Sean and threw her arms around his neck, and then they were kissing soppily between wide smiles and laughs. They were mumbling things to each other, private things that Hermione and James couldn't hear.

Hermione felt something touch her hand, and she glanced over to see James smiling at her. They linked fingers and he squeezed, gently.

Are you okay? He mouthed.

Frowning, her brow furrowed, and James motioned with his free hand to her face. Confused, she put her chopsticks down and reach up. Her cheeks were wet. She was crying.

She blinked in surprise and then huffed a tiny laugh. Nodding, she mouthed, Yeah. I'm fine. Thanks, to him, grinning when she turned back to Sean and Petunia who were off the floor but had moved their chairs to be next to each other at the corner of the table, their thighs pressed together.

Hermione cleared her throat, getting the newly engaged couple's attention. "Congratulations Petunia, Sean!"

"Oh, Hermione!" gushed Petunia, standing and throwing herself at her sister. They hugged tightly. "You'll be my maid of honour, won't you?"

Stunned, Hermione could only nod.

James was saying something to Sean, shaking his hand and grinning widely. As Petunia pulled away, showing Hermione the ring, she could make out a bit of their conversation.

"—wanted to do it with Hermione around," Sean was saying. "Because of her being at boarding school, this was the only option—"

"—completely understand!"

"—would have done it at the Evans' over Christmas or New Years, but between the girl's tension is still a bit high—"

"Are you happy?" whispered Hermione to Petunia, looking into her blue eyes. "Is this what you want?"

Petunia beamed back; tears still caught in her eyelashes. "Oh Hermione…" she whispered, "I've never been happier."

Good, thought Hermione. Something had changed – Petunia's engagement to Sean was tangible proof that her being in this time meant she could change things for the better. Hermione could save them – save Regulus, Barty, James, Lily, and so many more – and destroy Voldemort well before 1998.

Time was changing. And that was so, so, brilliant.

To visit the Potter estate, Hermione had to take the Knight Bus to Monmouthshire and then use the special portkey James had owled to her to bring her to the gates. Wales wasn't quite covered in snow the way that Cokeworth was – although, in the sad, industrial mining town, it was more slush – but the trees were bare and there was a mix of green and brown along the Valley, racing up the rolling hills and gorges of the valleys that made the area famous.

Leaving Wye for the Potter home was a whirlwind of secrecy and intense desire to know where Harry could have grown up. Godric's Hollow was on the coast, near Tintagel, and after that Christmas, Hermione had little interest in returning to the war memorial. But James's childhood home?

The portkey deposited Hermione on a chilly, foggy mountainside. The fog was dense, practically pea soup, thick and swirling at waist height. She could barely see in any direction around her, but within moments, hovering globes of light bobbed into soft existence high above her, driving the fog back to reveal a towering black gate in iron.

James stood on the other side, hands in his pockets as he grinned at her. "Hermione. Welcome to Brigwyr Crochenwyr."

Hermione boggled at him, at the near-fluent rolling of vowels and lack thereof in Welsh that rolled off James's tongue. "I beg your pardon?"

"Potter's Peak," he grinned, rocking back on his heels. He reached out and tapped the gates, once, with his bare fingers and they swung soundlessly open, dispelling the fog on the ground, and sending it flying up in ethereal wisps.

Shrewdly, Hermione slowly stepped forward, hearing the crunch of dead leaves under her boots. "Potter's Peak? Are we in Brecon Beacon, then?"

He nodded. "Ancestral Potter home. Our wards use the natural fog and magic does the rest to make sure no Muggles find us."

As she stepped over the threshold of the gate, the fog retreated and suddenly Hermione could see the entire Potter property stretch wide and far, along the sloping hills and rocky terrain of the large natural park.

There were no dead leaves under Hermione's boots once inside the property: instead, a gravel, tree-lined path led to a low, rectangular pond. The area around the pond branched off in four directions – north, south, east, and west. North, the direction they were heading in, led to the house; south was back to the gates.

James was exuberant as he pointed things out, walking with her toward his home. "So, here we have the topiary garden," he said, pointing east. "Although none of the flowers are in bloom – obviously – the garden maze is still fantastic to see. Nothing beats blindfolding Peter and sending a confundus at him and letting him loose in there!"

She turned to the west, opposite the garden. A thick, grey stone wall with an archway blocked much of the view, except for the tops of a clumped forest.

"See that gate?" asked James, and Hermione hummed in agreement. "There's a bunch of steps that lead down to the lower garden. Mum's got an Italian walkway garden, and a few ponds, including a koi pond that she obsesses over. She lost her marbles when Padfoot got into it last summer…"

Hermione did her best not to gape as James led her down the gravel path. There was a chill in the air, but nothing compared to the biting wind that was outside of the wards, and the property only had clumps of snow in certain shadowed patches. Otherwise, everything was green or brown.

As they approached the house, Hermione slowed to a stop and took a moment to take in the ancestral Potter seat. The Potters were an old name – maybe not as old as the Anglo-Saxon Blacks or the Macmillans – but they had been around since the 1300s and the house reflected that.

The house was long, rectangular with a distinct wing to the right and a wide, circular tower to the left of the house that climbed six windows tall, each growing narrower the further they went up. A weathervane was at the top, made of dark wrought iron. Closer to the tower was an extended entrance, butting out from the house at the same height but with a pointed, inverted V-roof facing the pond and gardens. There was a chimney poking from the roof of the entrance, as well as three more along the length of the right wing, and then a single, narrow one emerging from the circular tower.

The house was three-stories in height in a worn, weather-beaten grey stone, with a sloping, dark brown roof. Darker stones framed the windows and a single, large wooden door was recessed into the wall and covered by a pass-through arch. The house itself, while old and clearly added on over the centuries, had no medieval buttresses or tower walls for protection; however old the property was, it had never been used a fortress.

"Had your fill?" asked James, patiently. He stood with his hands in his pockets and was watching Hermione carefully, looking for her approval.

"It's gorgeous," she replied, glancing at him.

He flushed with pleasure. "C'mon, let's get inside. I'll show you the cottages on the property in the summer or some other time. Mum and Dad are wanting to see you again."

"In better circumstances, I'm sure," grinned Hermione, as James reached for her hand. They twined their fingers and he pulled her toward the double-doors, pushing them open.

Inside, the house was still decorated for Yule, with holly and mistletoe wrapped around pines above door frames. The interior of the entrance hall was wide but stunted, stretching right-to-left with sets of doors on either end. Directly in front of them, though, was a wide wooden staircase that split halfway up in a T-shape, turning again back on itself to reach the next level up.

"Ah, the swotty Evans arrives!"

Hermione glanced up to see Sirius grinning at her, strolling down one side of the stairs. "Hello, Sirius."

"Hey, Princess," he replied, eyes flickering to where James still held on to Hermione. His grin turned into a genuine smile and he stepped forward to give her a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. "How was your Yule?"

"Well enough," she replied, and then dropped her voice to say, "Reg says 'hi.' He knew I was coming by but didn't think to risk sending anything along to you."

Sirius beamed.

From down the hall, through one of the open doors, a feminine voice called, "James? Is that her?"

The voice was followed by Dorea Potter, tall and regal in her witch's robes. Her hair was pulled back in an elegant bun. Charlus followed with a genial amble behind, shoulders back and the similar lopsided grin James wore on his face.

"Ms. Evans," began Dorea, stretching her hands out, "Welcome to Potter's Peak."

"Thank you for the invite, Mrs. Potter," replied Hermione, unsure to dip into a curtsey or shake her hand. Instead, Dorea just took the tips of her fingers in her hand and squeezed gently.

Charlus grinned at her. "Good to see you, Ms. Evans. How are your parents? Leo's been doing well, I hope?"

Perturbed – as she didn't know her father and Mr. Potter were friends – Hermione took a moment to reply. "As far as I know, they are, sir."

"Sir," snickered Sirius.

"James, why don't you show Ms. Evans around the house while I get tea set for us," suggested Dorea. She cast a stern glance at her niece's son. "Sirius can help me."

"Auntie Dorea," whined Sirius, jutting out his lower lip in a pout.

Grinning, James reached out and took Hermione's hand in his, tugging her toward the stairs. "C'mon!"

"Not too long, James," cautioned Dorea as she called after them, James already at the stairs with Hermione behind. "Thirty minutes or so, darling."

"Okay, mum!"

On the next landing, James turned and led her down a hallway, and then another, until they were in a large bedroom decked out in gold, red, and natural wood. It was clearly his bedroom.

"Wow," said Hermione, slightly deadpan. "It's huge."

"Erm, yeah, seems so," replied James, reaching up and ruffling his hair. He glanced around and wondered if he saw what Hermione saw: the large bed with red covers; the two large windows with pale yellow and golden pillows in the window seat; the large wardrobe, with one door still partially open and revealing the mess inside as James struggled to figure out what to wear that morning, knowing she was coming by.

Three broomsticks – one a child's size, another his first broom when he made the Gryffindor Quidditch team in his third year, and his 'at home' Cleansweep, were leaning against the wall. There was a stack of books on his desk, a few of her letters out, and even some discarded chocolate frog cards and boxes. He winced – those should have been cleaned up before she arrived.

"You're such a Gryffindor."

"What?" James glanced back to Hermione to see she was near his desk, leaning up a bit to look at a shelf that had a few Gryffindor paraphernalia: a Quidditch banner Remus and Peter had made for one of his first games, an old, frayed scarf he outgrew years ago, a porcelain lion Peter had gifted him one Yule. Between those items were several framed photos, all moving, of him and Sirius, him and his parents, or the Marauders together. There were a few of James himself playing Quidditch, or portrait shots.

"Proud of it!" he exclaimed in answer, instead. He paused. "Do you like being a Ravenclaw?"

"The perks of having a mini library in the common room is definitely a plus," she answered, although she side-stepped the question neatly.

Narrowing his eyes a bit, and letting that answer go, for now, James teased, "You know… like all purebloods, we have an extensive collection of hard-to-find books. It might even surpass the allure of a mini private common room library…"

"You have a library?" gasped Hermione eagerly, spinning to him. Her brown eyes were alight with pleasure and anticipation, and James's breath hitched.

She was the loveliest thing he'd seen, and she was standing in his bedroom. He swallowed, pushing down the emotions that were crawling up in his chest. Instead, he ducked his head a bit and grinned, glancing at her from under his fringe and over the edge of his glasses.

"Yeah, I figured we'd get there eventually," teased James. He gestured to the door, and together they left his bedroom.

"JAMES POTTER!" Dorea's voice shrieked through the manor.

At her side, James froze, paling. His eyes began darting around in terror.

Hermione cocked her hip and crossed her arms, fighting to keep a smirk off her face. "What did you do?"

"Erm…" James swallowed. "If I had done something – not that I did – then that something, may have, possibly, involved a time-released transfiguration on mum's favourite tea set."

That sounds rather tame, thought Hermione with a frown, especially to warrant that kind of shriek from the Potter matriarch. Having raised James, and then half-raising Sirius, Hermione was expecting something much more involved.

"That's it?"

James winced. "Oh, er, no… not quite…"

"SIRIUS BLACK!" the voice continued.

The pounding of feet from above them had both James and Hermione look up at the ceiling, following with their eyes the track of sound until Sirius appeared, wide-eyed, bursting through the hidden panel of the servant's stairs.

"I think your mum drank the tea," he breathlessly confessed. He ran his hand through his curly hair.

"Tea?" asked Hermione suspiciously.

James choked off a moan while Sirius nodded. "It was meant for Moony and Wormtail when they visited, but, um… we kind of forgot…"

"Merlin, she's going to Avada me," whispered James. Behind his glasses, his hazel eyes were terrified. He turned to Hermione, the terror receding to leave a hardened, solemn look to him. He gripped Hermione's shoulders and stared at her.

"James…?"

"Hermione," he began. "Know that I have thought of you fondly. Remember me kindly."

Hermione blinked. "James – what–?"

Using his grip, he hauled Hermione close and gave her a bruising kiss, hard and tasting of apple cider. It sent sparks racing down Hermione's spine and she swore she heard her hair crackle.

He pulled back, slowly. Hermione's eyes fluttered open and she wondered when she closed them, deaf to Sirius' pleas for James to stop snogging her; the world had fallen away.

Then he and Sirius sprinted for the stairs, leaving Hermione alone on the third floor, blinking in stupefaction.

Swallowing thickly, Hermione's cheeks reddened, and she muttered to herself, "Gosh!" Alone, she mentally shrugged and turned on a wobbly heel toward the stairs herself, searching out something to do or someone to speak to.

Dorea found Hermione in the library thirty minutes later. The woman was furious, her dark hair flowing loose from her earlier updo; her cheeks were sharp, and her light blue eyes were angrily flashing as she stomped into the cozy room.

For a breathless moment, Hermione froze, thinking Bellatrix stood before her. Every instinct was telling Hermione to take up her wand and fight or flee.

Then Dorea caught sight of Hermione. She closed her eyes and her anger washed away, leaving the cool pureblood façade Hermione knew the Blacks were particularly good at projecting. There was even a chance that she was Occluding to keep her emotions at bay.

"My apologies, Ms. Evans," began Dorea stiffly, the only remaining hint of her ire. "But James and Sirius's prank for their friends caught me rather unaware and reacted poorly with me."

"You don't need to explain," replied Hermione, her tense muscles starting to loosen as her fight or flight instincts waned. "They once soaked me head to toe. Caused my magic to react poorly – and of course, it was through my hair."

Dorea stifled a chuckle. "You do have a head full of curls. Do you use Sleakezy to tame them?"

"Sometimes," admitted Hermione, "But I found over the years to just let my hair do what it wants."

"Forgive me," the woman began, carefully, "But from James's descriptions of you in his letters home, I always had the impression that you weren't the easygoing type of girl. Sirius even mentioned something about a study schedule?"

Hermione flushed.

Dorea looked at her knowingly, the tiniest smile on her lips. "Walk with me, Ms. Evans?"

"Of course."

They left the library and meandered down hallways until they went through a side door that led to one of the tiered gardens. Dorea's pace was relaxed, and Hermione, who was used to moving fast fast fast, struggled a bit. They ended up strolling along a long, dirt path enclosed by a lattice pagoda, with some brown twigs and winding vines, as well as some magical everblooms in soft blue and silver.

"Do you have plans past Hogwarts?" asked Dorea.

Hermione glanced at her. "I'm a sixth year – I haven't thought about it yet."

If I'll even be alive, she thought grimly, looking away.

"It's never too early to think of your future."

Hermione wanted to laugh. All she ever did was think about the future, it seemed.

What followed was Dorea questioning Hermione: What is your favourite subject? What are your thoughts on arithmancy? How is James progressing in it, and will he do well on his N.E.W.T.? What are Lily's plans after Hogwarts? She has another sister, a Muggle one, what is she doing? Oh, recently engaged – do the women in her family marry young? Is it the same gentleman that Charlus met years ago? What do her parents think of Petunia's fiancé? Does James like him – have they had conversations? Do her parents like James?

At first, Hermione was confused but readily answered. However, as the questions continue – and the end of the compacted dirt path seemed further away than ever – Hermione began to grow wary. She knew it was awkward that James had been interested in Lily before her, but Hermione could honestly say she didn't put herself out there for dating and never meant to catch James Potter's eyes.

Dorea seemed to catch on to Hermione's unease toward the end and finally slowed her walk to stop, turning to face the young Ravenclaw. "Ms. Evans," she began slowly, carefully, "You must understand. My son was persistent in a relationship with your sister for many years. 'Lily this' and 'Lily that' was all that we heard from him and Sirius for quite some time. Then, suddenly, it stopped. You were his focus."

The woman frowned. Although she wasn't cool or accusing, Hermione still felt vaguely trapped. "James is my son, Ms. Evans. I would do anything for him, and I want to ensure his happiness. I won't have him trapped in anything."

Hermione gapped. "I didn't – I haven't – I promise that I didn't do anything—"

"I know," replied Dorea, evenly. "I've had ample time since we began our walk to search you for any spells or talismans, and James has been away from you long enough that any potion neutralizers could take effect."

A frown pulled at Hermione's mouth, and she wondered if she should be insulted or admiring at Dorea's Black-like paranoia. She chose to be admiring, for James's sake.

"Mrs. Potter," began Hermione, carefully as she fidgeted with her hands and twisted the fingers around, "Please – the only thing that I've ever wanted for any Potters—"

Here, she paused, looking away to hide her tears as her heart cried out, painfully, HARRY. She bit the inside of her cheek and tasted copped. She looked up and met Dorea's eyes. "All I've ever wanted was for Potters to be happy. To be safe. I promise you that."

The blood inside her mouth felt hot and tasted like a vow.

Dorea searched her face for a long moment, then nodded. Something softened in her. "I know, my dear. I know."

They resumed their walk, and finally – finally – they reached the end of the path. Dorea turned and they moved back toward the house, entering through a conservatory that doubled as an indoor potions garden, and then through a mudroom to the kitchen.

Eventually, the two found James, Sirius, and Charlus in a large sitting room, laughing about something that the two women had no knowledge of.

"Dory, darling!" Charlus leaped to his feet. "The boys have something to say to you—"

James and Sirius also rose, tripping over themselves to apologize for the prank, which Dorea sniffed but accepted graciously. She moved further into the room, leaving Hermione hovering a bit awkwardly at the door.

"Hermione," grinned James, moving toward her to usher her to the couch where he was sitting. Hermione smiled back and followed.

"Not there, Hermione," said Dorea, making James pause. She patted the empty cushion next to her. "I think we should punish my son a bit longer, don't you think, dear?"

Hermione laughed at James's stupefied face, even as he whined about it being unfair and wanting to sit next to his girlfriend.

Dorea sent him a look. Loudly, she said, "Now, Hermione, has James ever told you about the time when he decided to be a lion?"

James's eyes went wide. "Mother, no!"

"Oh?" asked Hermione, sinking into the free spot next to Dorea.

A house elf popped in a tea set and Dorea began serving it out while Sirius reached for a biscuit, grey eyes alight with intrigue.

"James was four," began Dorea, her tone light. "And since he was a lion, lions don't wear clothes so neither did he…"

Dorea turned the tiniest amount toward Hermione, sending her a conspiratorial wink that went missed behind James's loud bluster and embarrassment, even as Sirius and Charlus began teasing him.

Hermione hid her grin behind her teacup, completely relaxed for the first time since she stepped foot at Potter's Peak.

January 1978

Once they were all back at Hogwarts for the year, Lily approached Hermione with a hesitant request.

Hermione stared. "You want to do a birthday lunch in Hogsmeade? During the school week? Skipping classes?"

Flushing red, Lily dragged her toe along the floor of the library. "Well, yes. It's been… a few years since we celebrated anything together without mum and da enforcing things, so I thought…"

Hermione slowly nodded. "You could invite Tuney, too, you know. She'd come."

"To a wizarding village?" asked an astonished Lily.

"She is our sister," replied Hermione, pointedly. "Do you think she wouldn't want to celebrate your eighteenth birthday?"

Lily frowned. "She wasn't very nice when she learned she didn't have magic, 'Mione. Remember? She called us freaks."

"Don't call me that. You also went behind her back with Snape and snuck into her room to find the letter she sent Professor Dumbledore," retorted Hermione, raising her eyebrows. "Do you think she appreciated you invading her personal space or private correspondence? Did you ever ask her why she was so upset at you going to Hogwarts?"

"Isn't she upset at us both?" muttered Lily, but she sighed and ran a hand through her long, red hair. "I'll think about it."

Hermione couldn't force Lily and Petunia to work together or be around each other. She would push when she could, but – a part of her realized – it was entirely possible that Lily and Petunia's relationship was too fractured to be healed.

So, Hermione found herself sneaking into Hogsmeade with Lily, using the secret passage behind the mirror. While it was blocked by rubble and debris in her time, the tunnel opened up to the caves above the wizarding town, near where Sirius used to hide out as Snuffles when visiting Harry in the alternate future Hermione came from. It was a long, winding tunnel, but a very secure and hidden exit and she filed it away for future use.

Lily chattered as they wandered down from the hills into town, enjoying the lightly falling snow as they headed to the Three Broomsticks. Madam Rosmerta didn't bat an eye when they walked in – most likely used to upper years sneaking into the village – and Lily grabbed their warmed butterbeer while Hermione secured a table from the busy lunch crowd.

While they waited on food, Hermione began their conversation. "Have you had thoughts about what you want to do when you graduate?"

Lily made a face. "Well, it's not like uni is in the cards now, is it?" She wrapped her hands around her warm bottle. "I was thinking something to do with Charms. Professor Flitwick says I'm a natural, but I also love potions…"

"Is there any way to combine the two?" asked Hermione, knowing that there was but not giving Lily any clues.

"Probably," her elder sister admitted, "But that would be more Severus's wheelhouse than mine. I was thinking of maybe doing a Charms apprenticeship if I could. Or going into delicate charm work for a jeweler. There's one in Diagon Alley—"

"Yeah, the one that is owned by the Shafiq's, right? Their other business than Scrivenshaft's?"

Lily nodded. "That's it! But they're really picky about who they hire."

"You have the grades for it—"

"Not like your grades, Hermione—"

Hermione waved her words off. "You'll do fine. You're not already stressing about your N.E.W.T.s, are you?"

Lily rolled her eyes. "Of course, I am! It's not like I've taken them before."

"As someone who has, I think you'll be fine," replied Hermione easily. Lily scowled and Hermione grinned, picking up her fork to dig into her meat pie.

The rest of their lunch passed, with Hermione leaving the galleons to cover the meal as a birthday treat for her sister. Taking advantage of being away from Hogwarts, the two left the Three Broomsticks and walked the high street, looking into store windows and popping into Honeydukes for sweets.

Hermione was absently sucking on a sugar quill when Lily sighed happily, stretching her arms above her head: "This was lovely. We should do this more often – we haven't had much of an opportunity to chat before!"

Uncharitably, well, whose fault is that? flew through Hermione's mind before she clamped down on the negative thought; she grimaced, glancing away.

"It was nice," she admitted quietly. And it had been. "We could do it next year – make it a new tradition."

Lily's green eyes lit up. "Ooo, I like that! Birthdays at the Broomstick! Yours would be next, in September."

If we're ignoring Tuney, sure, thought Hermione, but she hummed her agreement. Hermione slanted her amber eyes, catlike, at her sister and teased, "Would it be difficult, for you, I mean? You'll be an adult, doing adult things in an adult world."

Lily scoffed, tossing her hair. "I think I can manage."

"Then I'll already book it into my calendar," grinned Hermione.

Lily groaned. "Oh, yes, that color-coded thing."

"That thing has ensured my excellent grades, sister dear," replied Hermione with an arched eyebrow. Her tone was lofty and snobbish. "Don't mock it."

"I would never," gasped Lily, in mock affront as she brought her hand to her chest. Her eyes were wide, and then she broke character as she giggled. With a soft look, she reached around Hermione's coat and pulled her sister into her side, hugging her tightly.

"I missed you," she breathed into Hermione's curly hair. "I missed this."

Hermione closed her eyes, breathing in Lily's scent of parchment, ink, and her flowery fragrance. "Me too, Lils. Me too."

June 1978

Time passed.

On the first day of June, Hermione sat with Barty in the Quidditch stands. She felt, for the first time ever, her actual age of seventeen instead of what should really be sixty-four (she was old!), as she leaned forward and ogled James's butt in his Quidditch trousers. The light tan stretched along the muscle of his thighs and rear as he leaned forward over his broom, the quaffle tucked into the crook of his arms.

She sighed.

"It only took six years," lamented Barty with a sigh.

"What took six years?" Her eyes did not leave James's form as he dipped and soared, avoiding bludgers. He tossed the quaffle to Sirius, who caught it and zoomed forward toward Hufflepuff's keeper.

Barty eyed her. "You turning into a girl."

Affronted, Hermione turned to him and snapped, "I've always been a girl, Barty!"

"Not a typical one," he argued mildly. "You never were into makeup, and you never got all dolled up for dates at Hogsmeade."

She rolled her eyes and then leaped to her feet to cheer when Gryffindor scored. When she sat, she muttered, "Girls don't have to like makeup. And we don't always need to be pretty. I know how to dress up, you know."

Barty's lack of reply made her think he was skeptical of that assessment.

Arse, she thought.

Then the Gryffindors near them were on their feet, roaring. Gryffindor's seeker, Perkins, had caught the snitch and Gryffindor won against Hufflepuff, 450 to 120. They had won the Quidditch Cup, and for James, as captain, it was a sweet victory to end his year on.

Hermione and Barty stood in the Ravenclaw stands, clapping and whistling their approval of Gryffindor's win when James sailed by on his broom. His hair was more windswept than normal, his cheeks were flushed red from the game and win, and his hazel eyes were sparkling.

He extended a hand to Hermione. "Milady?"

She stared at it. In a previous life, she was terrified of heights, despite riding on thestrals, hippogriffs, and dragons. But Hermione Evans was not Hermione Granger, and she had come to appreciate the differences her new life provided.

Barty boosted her up, arms around her legs as he helped her to the barrier, and with James's help and careful positioning, Hermione climbed on to the broom behind her boyfriend, clutching tightly at his chest. She buried her face into his warm back.

They began to lazily spiral away from the stands, through the air and toward the still exuberant Gryffindor team hollering like crazy. Sirius even had the Quidditch Cup held above his head, using his knees to turn his broom in loopy eight's.

James placed a warm, gloved hand over hers. He turned his head, and she felt more than heard him say, "Don't worry, Hermione. I won't let anything happen to you."

And somewhere, deep in her heart, she thought, I know you won't.

Then it was the morning of the Hogwarts Express returning to London, and Hermione found herself in the Room of Requirement with Regulus. The two were staring at the Diadem from a distance, each wondering how to proceed.

Regulus crossed his arms and frowned. "Iron would hold it better, I think."

"I agree." She paused and glanced at him. "Are you going straight to the Haberdashery?"

"No. Mother's hosting a dinner for my return this year," sighed Regulus. "I don't think I will be able to get away for a week or so."

Hermione grimaced. "I don't fancy the idea of a Horcrux being at Grimmauld Place, to be honest."

"Neither do I."

They fell silent.

"Would it be safe at yours?" asked Regulus, a hesitant tone to his voice. Hermione glanced at him. He was frowning, but there was concern written on his face. "With your Muggle family, I mean."

"Maybe," admitted Hermione slowly. "Petunia's in London; Lily and I have our own rooms now, and I think she's moving out this summer to stay with her girlfriends. Then it's just my parents and I."

"Would they… snoop?"

Hermione laughed. "No. They both respected my privacy since I was old enough to demand it, I guess." She nodded decisively. "I'll take the diadem then, and we'll get together early this summer at the Haberdashery to destroy it."

With that agreement, Regulus carefully levitated the Diadem off the cabinet, and Hermione held open the iron container they were using, the lid pulled back far enough that she wouldn't accidentally touch the Horcrux.

Once it was in the container, she slammed the lid shut. Both Regulus and Hermione were breathing heavily by the end, a thin sheen of sweat on their faces. Regulus pulled out a handkerchief and delicately dabbed at his forehead.

Hermione scooped the container up and swung her schoolbag around to her front. It was the two-point-oh version of her beaded bag, charmed to only be opened by her and nearly bottomless with her expansion charm.

"I can't imagine going after one of these on my own," he muttered as they stood.

Hermione glanced at him sharply. "Don't. Ever. If you get a lead—"

"Oh, I won't," he replied back, grimly. He was a bit pale-faced. "After the lake, and this? No, thank you. Groups it is."

Hermione pressed her lips thin and looked away. Your original fate hasn't happened. It won't happen, she thought, keeping her eyes on her bag instead of her friend. There was no way that Regulus would die again.

They left the Room of Requirement in quiet, both lost to their own thoughts but stopped just past the door as it melted back into the wall.

Hermione looked around at the deserted hallway, and asked Regulus, "Are you sure it's still safe to be seen with me?"

"Well, if he's at the dinner tonight, at least I can report you didn't do any amazing magic this year," grinned Regulus, although it was shaky at best. "So, until he thinks you're not useful to cultivate, then… yes."

Hermione sighed.

"Cheer up," began Regulus, nudging her with his shoulder. "One more year and then we don't have to worry about playing around. We can go on the offensive."

"Which means I need to come up with more plans," said Hermione wryly. "Yes, thanks, leave it all up to me."

"You are the brains."

"Thanks, Reg." She paused and asked as they began walking again, "What does that make you?"

"Me?" He thought for a moment. "The heart. I hold all the belief in you and what we're doing."

Hermione went silent, both flattered by his conviction and the emotional depth. Regulus was always so quiet and unassuming, keeping a façade up for the world to see. But he was emotional with her and Barty, with the Black temper kept firmly locked until it was necessary – and she still hadn't seen what Regulus could unleash.

"And Barty?"

Regulus sent her a dry look. "Do you need to ask, Hermione? He's the hands. Your hands. He's the sword to your shield, the wizard who will step in front of you in defense, in offense."

Hermione's heart clenched at the idea of Barty stepping in front of her to take a spell. She didn't want that for him or Regulus. Another part of her bristled at the implied sexism, and cut her eyes at Regulus, opening her mouth, but he cut her off.

"Not like that." He rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean. Barty thinks you hung the moon."

Hermione grumbled a bit under her breath, letting the topic drop for now. Instead, she asked, "Are you going to join me with James and the others this afternoon?"

Regulus cringed.

"Oh, come on," cajoled Hermione, leaning up into Regulus's space. "If anyone asks—" They both knew who she was talking about. "—you can say that I begged it. See? I'm begging, Reg."

He sighed, eyes rolling up to the ceiling. "Fine. But good luck getting Barty to agree."

"You just said he thinks I hung the moon," she replied smugly. "I think I can convince him to join us for about thirty minutes. I think that's fair."

"Yes, I suppose it is. Potter is courting you, after all, and if his mind is heading toward marriage, then Barty will have to get used to him and my brother being around," agreed Regulus.

Hermione tripped over nothing. "Marriage? I'm seventeen, Reg!"

"And?"

"B-but—"

"Pureblood, Hermione," sang Regulus in a light tease. "He may support Muggle rights and his family might be considered blood traitors, but Potter's mother is my great-aunt and a Black. He knows our way of life."

Hermione kept silent, lost in her thoughts, well beyond where they separated to the Ravenclaw and Slytherin dorms.

Was James really that serious? The thought remained on her mind, hovering at the front.

Somehow, Hermione convinced Regulus and Barty to share a compartment with the Marauders. They wouldn't stay long – there was no way leaving Barty and Sirius anywhere near each other wouldn't end in bloodied knuckles or death threats, and they only needed one enthusiastic Sacred Twenty-Eight member to snitch on Regulus, despite what orders Voldemort gave him – before returning to a carriage of their own.

Upon entering the train, she and Barty claimed a compartment on the Hogwarts Express to use once he had used up all his patience in dealing with Sirius. Then, they went looking for James and his friends.

"There you are!" greeted Sirius once they slid open the door. Regulus was already there, a put-upon look of long-suffering on his face as Pettigrew and James finished a loud game of exploding snap.

"Hello. Room for two more?" she asked, stepping in.

"Hermione!" James leaped to his feet, dislodging the cards. At least three exploded, causing Pettigrew to cry out in alarm and one caught the edge of James's trousers. It caught on fire. "Shit!"

Sirius's laughs, loud barks, dominated the noise of the carriage as James tried to stamp out the fire with his hands, Pettigrew hovering around him.

Regulus caught Hermione's eyes and Barty sighed loudly beside her, crossing his arms and sending her a look that plainly read, must I?

Remus was doing absolutely nothing, enjoying the spectacle, so Hermione pulled out her wand and muttered, "Aguamenti."

A thin stream hit the bottom of James's trouser leg and doused the tiny sparks of flame left over.

He grinned at her, even as Hermione and Barty both sat on the seats opposite Sirius and Regulus and Remus. "Thanks, Hermione!"

"Are you a wizard or not, Potter?" she asked, rolling her eyes.

"'Course I am! But I figure that even a dashing figure like myself needs to be rescued by his fair maiden," he declared, flopping down next to her and tossing an arm around her shoulders. He tucked her in next to him and kissed her temple. She felt the curl of his lips and knew he was smiling.

Pettigrew clambered off the floor and squeezed into the space by the window next to Remus, leaving the four tightly packed compared to the three of them on the other seat. A conversation of summer plans and future careers dominated the first twenty minutes.

"You won't forget me, now that I'm not at the castle, will you?" teased James.

"It'll be easy to forget without the school-wide pranks and loud declarations every time you walked into the Great Hall," teased back Hermione, curling up next to James on the seat.

He preened, tilting his chin up and running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, we had some great times at Hogwarts, didn't we?"

"The very best," agreed Sirius loudly, cheering. Regulus sat next to him, opposite James and Hermione; Barty sat next to Hermione with Remus and Peter squished next to Sirius and the window.

"I wonder what the future will bring us now," mused Remus.

"Good times, Moony, only good times," replied Sirius with an easy grin.

I really hope so, thought Hermione, looking around the compartment. In another time, out of the six wizards that she was with, three were marked Death Eaters. James and Sirius would think Remus was a spy, a traitor, until it was too late to realize their mistake.

All of them were dead—and Hermione certainly considered Barty's vegetative soul-sucked state to be as good as.

The war had ravaged them, in one way or another. Hermione had taken on a heavy responsibility for Regulus and Barty, already diverting Regulus's path once; but, even acknowledging her place in this time, knowing that Harry would never be born to Lily and James Potter…

Could she actually change it all? Could she actually save them? Stop the war and Voldemort before it got to the point that it was in 1981? Avoid the second rising altogether?

Despite Sirius's assurance, Hermione was certain "good times" were far off in the horizon. "Bad times" were much closer to reality than he realized.

July 1978

The day of Petunia's wedding was warm and humid. The church they decided on in Cokeworth was a bit crumbly, a bit neglected, but it was filled to the brim with people from both their lives, all there to see Petunia and Sean get married.

Two of Petunia's friends from school – Emma and Moira – were bridesmaids, and Hermione was her maid of honour. She took the job seriously, fussing with Petunia's veil and triple-checking all the flower arrangements earlier that day, much to Lily's amusement, who had accompanied her on the trip down into town.

But now everything was perfect for Petunia's day, just the way she wanted it. So, Hermione followed Emma and Moira down the aisle, leading the way for Petunia behind. From the corner of her eyes, Hermione caught sight of James, sitting with her parents on the bride's side. He grinned at her as she passed.

The wedding itself was a blur – Petunia looked radiant in her dress and in Hermione's mind the only problem with it was its very distinct 1970s look – and Sean did his best to hide his tears during their vows; and then the next thing she knew, Hermione was standing outside the church with her parents waiting for photographs while the rest of the guests moved to the Bowes' home – which was much larger than the Evans' – for the reception.

It was different from what Hermione remembered of the other weddings she attended in her previous life: it didn't have the same desperate energy that came with Bill and Fleur's, or the intimate and loving atmosphere of Harry and Ginny's, or the many others she experienced – but there was something sweet and pure in Petunia's face as Sean carefully fed her some of their wedding cake.

Petunia had kindly placed James at the head table with Hermione, despite not part of the wedding party, and due to that and his respect and the fact that he liked Petunia, James had been well-behaved for the entire night, acting the consummate gentleman and fetching drinks for Rose when she asked, or attending Hermione's grandmother and charming her enough so that the usual taciturn woman winked at Hermione when James's back was turned.

"So," he began, slightly nervously, which immediately had Hermione turn a wary eye on him. He was fidgeting in his seat next to her, arm strung along the back of hers while he bounced one leg.

"So?" asked Hermione.

"If I said that I might have… possibly… potentially… have a wizarding surprise for Petunia and Sean – would you be upset?" he bit his lip.

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "What kind of surprise?"

"The exploding kind?" James winced.

Sitting up in her seat, Hermione exclaimed, "What!" just as a whizzing noise burst from the far end of the backyard, near the treeline that backed onto a farmer's field. Guests stopped speaking and turned in the direction.

For one wild moment, Hermione's heart pounded furiously, and she half expected Kingsley Shacklebolt's patronus to appear and announce, "The Ministry has fallen," just as Death Eaters descended upon the guests. But another whizz sailed up through the air and the two exploded in a riotous burst of silver and gold. Spinning wheels in Petunia's wedding colours followed next, making the guests ooh and aah through the performance. The next pattern was a heart with a P and S entwined inside it, making the crowd gasp in delight.

"James…" Hermione trailed off breathlessly, eyes turned up to watch the designs and swirls that could only be created with magic, delighting the guests who weren't 'in the know.' From the corner of her eye, she saw Lily torn between disapproval and awe; her parents were cuddled together and enjoying the fireworks. Petunia and Sean were both basking in the colourful glow of the performance, and there was the slightest sheen to Petunia's eyes.

She turned to look at the teenager at her side. He was watching her, not the fruit of his labour. There was something soft in his eyes. Hermione's heart skipped a beat, and there were butterflies in her stomach. "Hermione, I—"

The firework display ended, and the crowd burst into loud, generous applause.

Petunia raced over, throwing her arms around James, nudging Hermione aside. Sean followed a bit more leisurely and caught the end of Petunia's mumbled thank you against James's shoulder.

Thrown, the Potter heir patted her back, throwing a frantic look at Sean. "You're welcome, Petunia – I really hope you liked them—"

"They were beautiful!" She wiped at the tears gathering in her eyes.

"Totally awesome, mate," added Sean, shaking James' hand enthusiastically. "I've never seen fireworks do that before!"

James chuckled weakly, shooting a look at Hermione, who pressed her lips together to keep silent.

Petunia drew back and sent a look – one that read oh, really? – at James, and then turned to Hermione. "We're going to head out soon—"

"Oh, is it time already?" asked Hermione in dismay. "I barely had a chance to see you tonight."

"Our flight is in a few hours," apologized Sean, placing a hand low on Petunia's back. "My dad's going to drop us off at the airport." He glanced at his new wife. "And then a week in Spain before we're back to reality."

Hermione made a noise but reached forward and hugged Petunia tightly. "I'm so happy for you," she whispered in her sister's hair, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"I'm happy, too," whispered back Petunia, squeezing Hermione extra hard. She drew back. "But I'll be home before you know it, and you'll have to come by and visit us when we are."

There was a glimmer of something in Petunia's eyes when she said the sentence, skipping her blue eyes toward Sean and then James, her thin eyebrows raising expectantly, and Hermione caught on.

"Are you sure?" she asked carefully.

Petunia nodded. "I don't want to keep this from him anymore."

"Okay."

The two Evans turned to look at Sean and James, who were exchanging jokes good-naturedly, but when Hermione heard James say something about "ball and chain," she quickly intervened by moving to his side and taking his hand in hers. His goofy, lopsided grin appeared immediately on his face.

"Have a safe trip," he said as his goodbye to Sean and Petunia, who thanked them both again, James a bit more than Hermione due to his impressive fireworks display, and then they were gone.

James glanced at Hermione. "You're quiet. Missing Petunia already?"

Hermione shook her head. "She wants me to explain to Sean about… us."

"Us?"

"I mean, me and Lily. Hogwarts," clarified Hermione, glancing at James. "About what we really are."

James whistled, low. He seemed to be thinking, but then said, "He'll be fine with it, I think."

"Oh?"

"I've mentioned a few… odd… things to him when we speak," the teen admitted, ignoring Hermione's frown. "It didn't seem to bother him much."

"Well, we'll see," finished Hermione with a sigh. "Anyway, when is your dad coming to Side-Along you back home?"

James shook his head. "Password-activated portkey. So, when your parents decide to leave, I'll sneak off."

Hermione glanced around the slowly diminishing yard, taking note of the people who left when Petunia and Sean did and saw her mother helping Sean's with some clean up while their grandmother admonished them, telling them to leave it for tomorrow.

"Best go now, I think," said Hermione. "While there are still enough people here to distract others. It looks like mum is starting to clean up, so this reception is winding down now."

"Alright," agreed James easily. He leaned forward, brushing his lips against Hermione's. Her breath caught and hitched, and as he slipped his arms around her waist to deepen the kiss, she found her arms sliding over his shoulders and twine behind and then brush into his hair.

James murmured something appreciative against her lips.

"Ugh, really?" a voice interrupted them. The two drew back, but James kept his arms around Hermione.

Lily had a hand over her eyes. She split her fingers, testing to see if they had stopped kissing, and sighed, dropping the hand. "Mum wants to head home – says her feet are killing her."

"I'll be right there," replied Hermione.

"Don't be too long." Lily glanced at James, pursing her lips but nodded. "Potter."

"Goodbye, Evans," he replied, and the couple watched Lily walk away, back toward Rose and Leonard. He sighed. "And I think that just about killed it."

Hermione laughed.

He looked at her fondly, a smile pulling at his mouth. "I'll owl you."

"Goodnight, James."

He untangled himself and meandered around the crowd, looking for a quiet, dark corner, and found one. Hermione kept her eyes on him, watching as he turned to face her again. He lifted his hand, gave her a jaunty flick, and then disappeared.

"Hermione? Hermione, love, we're leaving!" called her mother, and Hermione turned to join her family. Once she was with them, Rose further said, "I'm coming back tomorrow with Lily to help Margaret with the cleanup. Will you be joining us?"

Hermione agreed, and the following day, returned to the Bowes property to clean up the leftover decorations and cutlery from the reception, getting to know Petunia's new mother-in-law and Sean's cousins who drove up from Surrey for the wedding.

The week went by quickly, and Hermione found herself accepting a tea from a very tanned, very relaxed Petunia in her flat soon enough. She had one more free day before returning to work, and Sean was spending his last day on their couch, indulgent as Petunia spoke about all they had seen during their honeymoon.

Finally, she came to an end and nervously reached to play with her wedding rings. Sean caught the movement and frowned. "Is everything okay, Tuney?"

She bit her lip and glanced at Hermione, who sighed and put down her teacup. "Sean, I – I have something to tell you—"

The way his face paled made Petunia stop.

"Bloody hell, you can't be pregnant already," he blurted.

Hermione erupted into laughter and Petunia scowled. "No – I am not pregnant—"

Confused, Sean opened his mouth, but Hermione decided to nip things to avoid miscommunication or Petunia's temper from getting the best of her. "Lily and I have a secret that we couldn't share with you until you married into the family, Sean."

The young man turned his confusion toward Hermione while Petunia huffed next to him. "Oh. Okay. What…?"

Hermione cleared her throat. "So, this will sound insane, but it's absolutely true. Lily and I are witches, and we attend a magical school in Scotland. We were told when we were eleven. It's a genetic quirk that some people have while others do not." She tipped her head toward Petunia.

Sean blinked, sitting back against the couch cushions as he absorbed the information Hermione presented to him.

When the silence continued, Petunia glanced nervously at Hermione before turning to her husband. She put a hand on his knee. "Sean? Are you… is this…?"

Sean shook his head, a tiny laugh emerging from him. "Oh my God, Hermione, so much makes sense about your friend Barty now."

Petunia exhaled in relief and Hermione cracked a grin. "Yeah, he's a wizard."

"You said his dad – is high-ranking in the ministry…?" Sean began to lean forward, a gleam of something in his eyes.

"His dad is Head Auror – head of police," explained Hermione.

"And James – the fireworks, those were magical?" the man continued. He shook his head. "Blimey, all those times – he was telling me, without telling me… he mentioned owls and his favourite broomstick…"

Hermione groaned.

But then Sean was glancing between the two, something curious and wondering on his face as he requested, "Please. Tell me everything. This is – amazing. I want to know about it all."

Petunia beamed, reaching over. She took his hand in hers and he beamed back, and Hermione began.

July 1978

Hermione, Barty, and Regulus stared at the diadem, mesmerized by the sheen and sparkle of the diamonds and encrusted jewels on the piece as it reflected and bounced the midafternoon summer light from the large bay window in the reception room of Black's Haberdashery.

Despite the warmth of the July sun, the heat that suffused the room, there was a hint of iciness, of frost as their breaths escaped their mouths.

Barty was the first to break the silence, still looking at the beautiful piece. "Please tell me you haven't been sleeping here with this thing."

Regulus scoffed. "Do I look like my brother? I'm not that stupid."

Hermione cleared her throat. "Do you have the basilisk venom, Barty?"

He tore his eyes from Ravenclaw's diadem, shuddering. "Yeah. Yeah." He reached into his pocket and withdrew a tiny vial. "It was a pain to get. Sorry for taking so long. Finding the right person from Father's contacts wasn't as easy as I thought it would be."

"It's fine," replied Hermione, taking the vial. She ignored how her hand trembled. The glass was thick and the venom inside was a milky colour, thin in viscosity, and had a strange yellowish tinge to it.

"What do we have to do?" asked Regulus, hushed.

"Just pour a few drops onto the diadem," answered Hermione, just as quietly. She swallowed thickly and deliberately turned her back on the artifact. "The venom will eat at the diadem and then melt part of it down. It'll destroy the Horcrux inside it, too."

"But it destroys the diadem!" protested Barty. He frowned. "Shouldn't we find a way to avoid that? This is a priceless piece of history!"

"Well, what do you think we should do, Crouch?" snapped Regulus. "Keep it and hope the Dark Lord doesn't find it later to resurrect himself?"

"It just seems terrible to destroy such a thing!" retorted Barty.

"I don't hear you coming up with anything else," sneered Regulus. He crossed his arms. "Aren't you Ravenclaws supposed to be smart?"

"Clearly you don't really want to destroy it," began Barty, his voice cold and hard in a way neither of the other two had ever heard before. "I bet you want the Dark Lord to succeed!"

"If he rids the world of blood traitors like you—"

Hermione stepped between the two snarling teens. "Whoa, whoa! Enough! This isn't you."

"It sure feels like it!" snapped Regulus.

"Reg, that's the Horcrux," admonished Hermione gently, pushing him back. She turned to Barty, who had a slightly feral look to his eyes. "You too, Barty. Take a step back. Now."

Perhaps it was only because listening to Hermione was so ingrained in their very being that both did so. The further they got from the Horcrux, the better they began to feel, and soon, both were breathing easier.

Horrified, Barty whispered, "What as that?"

"The Horcrux," replied Hermione, grimly. "It fights back."

"Is that what you felt in the cave?" asked Regulus, hands at his side as he clenched and unclenched them. He was pale and there was a high splotch of colour on his cheeks.

Hermione turned her eyes toward Regulus. "No. No, this – this is just a taste of what the Horcrux can do. It'll get much, much worse before we manage to destroy it."

"Worse?" Barty was shaking, a bit, and had his arms tight around his chest, hugging himself. "That already was terrible. I felt… I was just so angry."

"Take that anger, and then everything negative you ever thought about yourself or heard people say about you," said Hermione, her mouth turned down. "Every insecurity you have, every failure, every missed opportunity. The Horcrux knows it. It uses passive legilimency and then uses your reactions to build. Like a boggart but without a spell to get rid of it."

The two paused for a moment. Then, Regulus ventured, "What – what did you see–?"

Hermione cleared her throat. "C'mon, wands up at the ready. I'll dump the venom on it, but you two need to be aware of what's happening."

Warily, Regulus withdrew his wand. Barty already had his out, but both remained several feet away. Hermione stepped forward between them, toward the table. The Horcrux seemed to leech the sunlight from around it as she got closer, leaving parts of the frame heavily shadowed.

Swallowing, Hermione thought, here we go, her hand shaking the slightest amount as she uncorked the basilisk venom vial. And just like that – a shade emerged, a wispy, dark figure that formed into the top half of a young man, only a few years older than themselves.

He was handsome, with very human features despite the red tint to his eyes. Regulus inhaled sharply from behind Hermione.

"Merlin," he breathed, as the shade fixated its eyes on Regulus.

"Regulus Black," it purred. "The second. The second son, the second choice. Even amongst your friends, you are second fiddle to Crouch. You will always be someone's second choice, never the first. You'll never have the same kind of attention that Sirius receives because you're just too good."

The shade sneered and Regulus trembled, his mouth open. "The heir and the spare, Regulus. When are you going to ensure you're the first? I can help you with that, Regulus – I will always put you first, give you the attention you want—"

"What are you waiting for, Hermione?!" shouted Barty, as though there was a roaring wind that they all had to speak over. "Destroy it!"

The shade's eyes turned to Barty, causing Regulus to gasp and suck in air. He had been holding his breath the entire time, and fell to his knees, gasping. His gray eyes were wide, and he had a hand pressed against his chest.

"Junior," the shade's teeth gleamed as it grinned at the Ravenclaw. "The boy who so desperately wants daddy's love and attention and who won't ever receive it. You'll never be good enough for him, Barty. Nothing you do – he thinks you are a failure. You could get the perfect grades, be the perfect son, and it still won't be enough. It won't take him away from the Ministry to look at you. He doesn't like you. He doesn't care about you."

"Lies!" shouted Barty, eyes a bit shiny. "Hermione, kill it!"

The shade's eyes turned to Hermione, who froze. There was something dark in the upturn of the shade's mouth as it began, "Ah, yes, the girl out of time—"

But Hermione tipped the vial and four drops sizzled out, hitting the diadem before the piece of Tom Riddle could say anything else. It wailed, loudly, and Barty reached up to cover his ears with his hands.

Then, silence.

"Is it dead?" Regulus was the first to speak. He was slowly getting up off the floor.

The diadem on the table was a melted, twisted mess of cracked jewels and warped frame. Smoke was still wafting from it, and there was a sharp scent of ozone mixed with rotten leaves in the air.

"It's dead," confirmed Hermione.

"That's two," whispered Barty.

"Fuck." Regulus dry heaved, bending at the waist. "That was horrible."

"That was nothing compared to the cave," revealed Hermione. "It only spoke to you. I had visions, all trying to stop me from continuing. We weren't even trying to destroy it. And when I say they fight back, sometimes you need to use magic, too."

"Fuck," repeated Regulus.

Barty, pale-faced, muttered, "How many of these do you think he has?"

Hermione sighed, feeling very, very tired. "Too many."

Barty all but collapsed on the couch, still staring at the melted Horcrux. Finally, he looked at his two best friends. "Are we going to do the locket, now?"

Regulus stared at him incredulously.

"Best get it over with," agreed Hermione, quietly. She held out the vial. "Who wants the honours?"

Barty stood. "Me. I'll do it."

Hermione silently passed the vial to Barty, still uncorked. He clenched it with both hands wrapped around the tiny glass, his knuckles white from the grip and tension.

Regulus, sensing he was outnumbered, sighed. He turned and withdrew the locket from the handkerchief they had wrapped it in, moving slowly toward the same table with the melted diadem. Without touching it, he carefully put the locket down, flipping the edge of the kerchief to reveal the piece.

Like the diadem, the locket sucked the light and warmth from the room, immediately. There was a hint of hissing, indistinct whispers in the air that made the three warily look around.

"What's going on?" whispered Barty.

"They're talking to each other," answered Hermione.

"But we destroyed the diadem!" Regulus' voice was shrill in panic.

"Things linger." Hermione shrugged. "Best hurry – the longer they have time to talk, even if it is only a tiny sliver, it'll be hard enough to fight back."

Gulping, Barty strode toward the locket, just as light emerged from the under the cracks of the lid, snapping the locket open. A teen their age appeared, looking around the room. His eyes lit on Barty, who had frozen. He opened his mouth—

"Stupefy!"

Hermione blinked in surprise at Regulus' attack. It startled the shade as well, and Barty took the opportunity to launch himself forward, hip hitting the edge of the table and knocking the diadem to the floor.

"No – no!" the shade roared, stretching up to reach the ceiling as it loomed over them.

Barty tipped the vial and the venom dripped out, sizzling on contact with the metal of the locket. The shade screamed in pain, turning red and fuzzy around the edges as it expanded, trying to take up as much room as it could.

The air felt hot and sulfurous. Regulus cast a bubblehead charm, then one around Hermione and Barty as wind whipped at them. The shade grew long and thin, and with a final shriek, burst apart.

The three waited a long moment before Regulus flicked his wand and dispelled the charm.

"Two down," said Barty, shakily. He handed the vial back to Hermione, who corked it. There was still half a bottle left. He then fell to his bum, legs unable to hold his weight.

Regulus moved to stand at Hermione's side. He caught her eyes. "Two down," he echoed.

Hermione nodded. "Two down. We can do this."

She reached out and took Regulus' hand in hers, and then stretched the other, with the vial, toward Barty. He shakily reached for it, and wrapped his fingers around her wrist, so they were all connected.

"Together."

The two grinned back at her, and she didn't comment on how pale or shaky they were.

"Together," vowed Barty, fiercely.

"Together," agreed Regulus, eyes wild and voice firm. "Together."

TBC…

Note: As you can see, I took the suggestions and included timestamps now. I've retroactively done this for the chapters that were still available in my Doc Manager on FFnet; all chapters on Ao3 have timestamps. Chp 18 needs to be written (although parts already are) but Chps 19 and 20 are almost done. Once 18 is posted, 19 and 20 will follow quickly, and MANY, MANY questions you have had over the length of this fic will be answered. :) 19 and 20 are probably my favourite chapters of this entire story so far!