Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Author's notes: I really like time travel fics where Hermione is reborn as Lily's sister, but there's not enough for my appetite. To remedy this, I decided to start something on my own. Hermione comes from the mostly canon-verse and is brought to this AU. I am new, and I am not the best writer. Don't be afraid to give negative criticism about plot holes or grammar. I have my opinion, and you have your opinion. If it doesn't match, that's okay. Other than that, flame on!

Update: Sorry, I've been gone for a while. I promised to only be gone for a month, and I've been MIA for half a year. I started a new job, and haven't really had time to write and update. Some of the story has changed since I've been back so I will be updating the existing chapters slowly while updating the newer chapters. Thanks for your support and time, Guys! Your awesomeness knows no bounds.

Summary: "Either must die at the hand of the other." Harry falls into a deep depression after he finds he cannot die. To save her best friend and stop the prophecy, Hermione travels to the past as Hermione Jean Evans, twin sister of Lily Evans.

Warning: Mentions of suicide and depression!

Hermione Granger - 93 years old

It all happened so fast, or perhaps, it didn't. On hindsight, it was a long time coming, but no one could have possibly predicted this. She sat back and reached for a piece of paper. A familiar verse stared back at the distraught Gryffindor.

The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches
Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies
And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal,
but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not
And either must die at the hand of the other
For neither can live while the other survives.

It all came back to this prophesy... Hermione allowed herself to take the words in, "Either must die at the hand of the other." Harry's body lay on the bed beside her. A gun sat on the table, pried from his cold, dead hands. This had been the 47th time... And Hermione didn't know if she could stand to stick around for long. She didn't know if she could face him when he came around because he always came back.

January 3, 1960, Cokeworth Hospital, Midlands

Rosemary and Harold were left speechless when they heard the news.

"Twins?!" Harold was the first to find his voice. Rosemary could only nod along. How could the midwife not have known? Suddenly, another contraction hit. Rosemary screamed and crushed Harold's hand.

"We're not ready for twins!" Rosemary screamed. Her cry of pain was echoed by Harold's then another series of deep breathing.

"Doesn't matter if you're ready, Lovie. They're coming," the midwife calmly replied, not shaken by the couples' panic. "Now push!"

With one almighty push, Rosemary screamed, and Lily Jasmine Evans was born into the world. With help from the midwife, Lily's cries filled the room. Rosemary and Harold breathed a sigh of relief until the next contraction hit. The midwife swiftly cleaned the baby and laid her in a nearby cot.

"No," Rosemary whined, "No more. I can't—I can't do this. Please don't make me do this." She pulled Harold closer to her side.

"You've got this, Darling," Harold soothed, "It'll be alright." He wiped the sweat from her forehead and kissed her clenched fist. With another cry of pain, the second baby was born. Rosemary fell back as the pain made way for relief as newborn wails filled the room. The midwife quickly cleaned and changed the new baby.

Assured that the babies and mother were healthy, the midwife left the small family to themselves. A small three-year-old nervously shuffled into the room. She shot one glance to something beyond the door. A tall, ginger man shot her a wink before walking away. The little girl looked uncertainly to her parents but was encouraged by their smiles. Stumbling to the bed, she stared down at the small bundles. Her eyes narrowed scrutinizing the rare sight.

"They look so…squishy," Petunia stated staring at her two sisters with morbid curiosity. She couldn't seem to look away. One had a small tuft of orange hair, and the other had curly, chestnut locks. Both babies hadn't opened their eyes.

"This is Lily," Harold said motioning to the orange-haired bundle in his arms. The small family had already decided the baby's names months before the birth. Lily if it was a girl, and Harry if it was a boy.

"What shall we name her?" Rosemary asked motioning to the bundle in her arms. Petunia peeked into the other bundle's eyes. Harold took a moment to think.

"What about Hermione? After Shakespeare's A Winter's Tale," Harold suggested. As if responding to her name, the small bundle opened her chocolate brown eyes and peered at her small family. He could have sworn there was a spark of recognition in the newborn's eyes. There was a strange sort of wisdom in her eyes.

"Really?" Rosemary asked, "Are you sure? Won't she be the odd one out?"

"She looks like a Hermione to me," Harold replied, "besides, she'll fit in just fine."

"Mione," Petunia added, pointing at the small bundle.

"Very well then," Rosemary conceded, "she could also have Jean, your mother's name."

"Hermione Jean Evans and Lily Rose Evans," Harold said with finality, brushing the soft chestnut curls, "welcome to the family."

Hermione Granger – 20 years old

The first time it happened, they had dismissed it as a miracle. A failed assassination attempt they had called it. Goyle was immediately committed to Azkaban and kissed. It was a straightforward, point-blank Avada, but he must have missed. There was no possible way to survive the spell a third time, and Goyle had never been one known for their skills with a wand.

The Boy-Who-Lived, lived again, and nobody gave it a second thought. They didn't want to.

They were too overwhelmed with relief at his survival. Their world wasn't stable enough for them to lose Harry now. Ginny, 5 months pregnant with their first child, wept into his chest as soon as he came home.

All was well.

Hermione Jean Evans – 7 years old

Rosemary couldn't help but worry for her youngest daughter.

Lily and Petunia were like most children their age.

Lily was a bit spoiled but was also the most compassionate and generous. She was obsessed with rainbows, unicorns, and anything flowery and pink. At the age of six, Lily's favorite hobbies were naturally dress up, gardening, and playing fairy tale princess. The redhead's heart was softer and purer than

Petunia was bossy and had a mean streak a mile wide, but she was also protective and loyal to a fault. She wouldn't abide any bullies and would chase off anybody with the gall to mess with her sisters. Petunia loved to laugh and was often blunt to the point of being rude. There were even times when Rosemary had to smooth over one of Petunia's thoughtless observations about someone's abysmal looks or large weight gain. Still, Rosemary could always count on her eldest in a pinch.

Even with their strange quirks, Lily and Petunia were still just happy, carefree children, but Hermione was... different.

Whenever she brought it up to others, they simply commented:

"I wish my little Johnny was more like Hermione," Some would say.

"You're so lucky to have such a smart, quiet child," Others would say.

Hermione's teachers were also enamored with her. A prodigy, they declared. She was placed in all the advanced classes, and even the advanced classes were not enough for her. After an extensive assessment test, teachers were pushing to place her in high school classes and possibly college courses. Rosemary wanted to keep her daughter with the other normal children, but what normal six-year-old could solve equations in quantum mechanics?

As a baby, Hermione was like any other well-behaved child, but Hermione seemed to change overnight. Rosemary came to wake the girls to find Hermione already awake. The little girl sat in her crib, staring morosely into space. It looked as if the weight of the world were solely on her shoulders. Once Hermione noticed her presence, a switch flipped, and Hermione was as she usually was.

Unfortunately, it only got worse from there. Hermione had instances where she would be lost to the world only to come back once she noticed she was being watched. Hermione grew more despondent as the days passed.

There were times when even Lily and Petunia couldn't get through to her—moments as if she didn't recognize anyone or anything, hours of staring into space with a dull, empty look, and days where she couldn't even be bothered to leave her bed.

Just as Rosemary was beginning to lose hope, her salvation came in the form of a birthday surprise.

After months of haranguing, Harold and Rosemary caved and decided to surprise their daughters with a puppy for Hermione and Lily's 4th birthday. As soon as the Jack Russell Terrier walked through the door, Hermione burst into tears. Harold and Rosemary were beside themselves, not understanding her hysterical reaction. Lily and Petunia were just as lost, and Lily also burst into tears, not knowing what else to do. Harold moved to take the puppy, but Hermione clutched it to her heart and refused to let it go. After a few hours, Hermione calmed down, and Lily followed soon after. When Lily asked for a turn, Hermione hesitantly let go of the poor pup. Hermione conceded to her sister's wishes, but she didn't let the puppy out of her sight for the rest of the night. The girls named him Ron.

After adopting Ron, the depressive moods waned. Rosemary and Harold breathed a sigh of relief. Their daughter was back to normal.

Apart from Hermione, Rosemary was also worried about the ghosts. At first, she supposed her mind was just playing tricks on her, but she would often find things moved. Anything broken would be magically fixed the next day. Sometimes, she would notice things falling over on their own or just magically floating in the air. Some changed colors overnight, and flowers that were only supposed to last a few weeks would stay fresh for months.

Once, she caught the cookie jar floating up the stairs. It scared the bejesus out of her, but when she touched it, it immediately shattered on the steps. Lily rushed out of her room to investigate, but Rosemary just waved her away, reassuring her that it was an accident.

On another occasion, Petunia fell from a tree and broke her leg. After a frantic trip to the hospital, Petunia returned with a cast and a prescription for three months of bedrest. The next day, the cast was gone, and the leg was healed. A medical marvel, the doctors called it. Petunia called it magic, but Rosemary waved them away and decided that the house was haunted.

Rosemary had half a mind to either move or call in exorcists, but seeing that the ghost didn't mean any trouble, she just decided to let things be. All was well.

Hermione Granger – 23 years old

Harry seemed to change after the ordeal. He became more focused, more determined. As the new Head Auror of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, he assigned himself the most dangerous jobs and worked relentlessly around the clock. Hermione remembered many long nights comforting Ginny while Harry was off on his latest dangerous mission.

Then, Albus was born. Perhaps, it was because Albus was practically a carbon copy of his father. Perhaps, it was because Albus became so attached to his father as soon as they met. As Harry held his second son for the first time, he changed. The dangerous missions lessened, and Harry was always home by 7. His fervor was tempered, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

Hermione Jean Evans – 7 years old

Harold's bond with Hermione was easier formed than his two other daughters. While his other daughters enjoyed tea parties and dressing up, Hermione was content to tuck herself in a corner with tea and a delightful book. Harold was more than happy to join her.

Many evenings were spent cuddled together, poring over tomes and stories. Harold loved having someone to talk to about Shakespeare and Poe.

They talked about current events, but sometimes Hermione would mention something that perplexed Harold only for it to come true in the next edition.

"Why should it be such a problem?" Hermione asked as she read the newspaper from his lap. It was an article covering the Civil Rights Movement in America. "People cannot help how they are born. Is it so hard to treat people as people? In the end, we're all the same. The same heart, the same mind, the same blood..."

Hermione automatically clutched her right forearm as she often did when she was nervous, and somehow Harold felt as if she was speaking from experience. He didn't comment. She wasn't wrong.

"It's too bad, he'll die soon," Hermione said off-handedly. Harold felt a chill run up his spine but refused to comment.

He forgot about it until the next time the two sat down to read the morning paper. "Martin Luther King is Slain in Memphis," it read. Harold looked to his daughter and frowned. Her eyes remained on the paper. Once again choosing to ignore it, Harold returned to the paper and focused on what it said.

After the twins turned five, Rosemary and Harold decided to sign the girls up for extracurricular activities. Lily chose ice skating; Petunia chose ballet; and Hermione chose football (I'm referring to soccer).

For such an intellectual, Hermione was pretty adept at running. There was only a neighborhood boys' team, but after some negotiating, Harold convinced the coach to letting his little girl onto the team. She fit right in with the other gangly boys her age.

Whenever Hermione played, she would get this gleam in her eyes, and quick as lightning, she would zip through the field and land a goal before the other team knew what was happening. Perhaps, she was a runner in another life; her body seemed to be built for agility, with the way she would maneuver past ally and foe alike.

After every game, her friends- Daniel, Rupert, Tom, and Matthew- would hoist her onto their shoulders cheering her praises

Lily and Petunia were his little princesses, but Hermione was his warrior.

Author's note: Read and review. Let me know what you think and what I can work on.