A/N: Okay – this is where it might get confusing for some (I apologize). In the last chapter we found out that Harry had traveled into the future. In this chapter we find out that 17 year old Harry displaced his future self and that his future self has taken 17 year old Harry's place. Hope that makes any kind of sense! From now on the chapters are going to be alternating points of view between the two Harrys, so we get both their perspectives.

Coming Around Again – Part III (at Hogwarts)

Harry Potter sat comfortably on a bed in the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts. Pillows were propped up behind him, cushioning his back, and he leaned against them with his fingers laced behind his head. He'd been sitting in just this position for more than half an hour, trying to adjust his mind to an unbelievable truth that was staring him in the face.

He was back at Hogwarts. After ten years, he was back.

Intellectually he had known this was going to happen. Ten years ago he had been on the opposite end of this wild ride through time, and he had always known that this part of the journey was coming. But that didn't make the reality of the moment any less unbelievable. No matter how often he did it – and Harry sincerely hoped this was the last time – time travel was never going to feel commonplace.

Shaking off his silent musings, Harry turned toward Hermione, who was asleep in the chair beside him and looking like the very picture of exhaustion. She'd pillowed her head on her arms and was supporting herself on the table next to his bed. Luckily her face was turned toward Harry so he could see the way her mouth hung slightly agape as her gentle snores echoed through the otherwise empty room. Her clothes were rumpled and her hair looked bushier than normal, and Harry couldn't decide if it was an after-effect of the explosion or her resulting agitation. Or, most likely, a little bit of both.

Idly, Harry wondered if he should have woken her. He supposed it would be the nice thing to do, since he didn't imagine her current position was comfortable. But he enjoyed watching her sleep so much – and she did look exhausted – that he decided it was just as easy to let her rest.

Just then Hermione snuffled in her sleep and shifted slightly. Her weight went too far to one side and suddenly she was teetering precariously off one side of the chair. Harry jolted into action and lunged forward, ready to steady her, but Hermione jerked awake just before she sprawled across the floor. The wide-eyed surprise on her face was so comical that Harry couldn't stop the laugh that erupted from him as she squeaked and scrambled to find some sort of purchase.

"Harry!" she choked out when she'd caught herself. An embarrassed blush made her cheeks rosy. "You're awake."

"I am," he agreed, smiling widely because he couldn't not smile at her. Hermione would think he was laughing at her, of course, but really he was marveling at the fact he was seeing – speaking with – an eighteen year old Hermione. It had been one thing to see her asleep, it was quite another to see her awake and talking. She looked largely the same as she did at twenty-eight; the differences were almost too subtle to be noticed. But though eighteen, this Hermione was still more girl than woman. Her features possessed a youthful roundness, and a gentle kind of innocence clung to her. Such pure youth should have been impossible after all they'd been through by this age, and it reminded Harry just of how young they'd been during the final battle with Voldemort.

"How's the pain?" Hermione got to her feet and examined his burns. "You've been asleep for hours."

"I'm a bit sore." Harry raised a hand to touch the salve pasted across his burned forehead. "But I think I got off lucky."

Hermione nodded, managing to look concerned and exasperated at the same time. "It was horrifying. I was afraid to look at you at first, but all you had was a burn."

Harry nodded, well able to imagine Hermione frantically checking to see if he was all right. "How's the classroom?"

It was strange, speaking to Hermione about things that had happened ten years in his past but had been only hours ago for her. Harry wracked his brain, trying to remember what day it was and what had been going on at this point in his seventh year. He'd thought it would be easier to remember the minute details surrounding such an astounding event in his life but, as with so many things, moments he thought he'd always remember had faded away over time.

"Destroyed," Hermione said, her voice full of disapproval. "Well, not really," she admitted. "You'll need a new cauldron, of course, and our table will have to be replaced. But everything else was repaired rather easily. Including you."

Harry smiled. Little did she know.

"Yeah." Harry gestured to his face. "Madam Pomfrey is excellent with burns."

"I've had plenty of practice on you, Mr. Potter." Madam Pomfrey appeared from around a corner, the stern expression on her face exactly as Harry remembered. He smiled at her fondly.

"I know. Sorry."

"Take this," she said handing him a jar of salve and ignoring his apology, "and put it on just before bed. By tomorrow morning your burns should be completely healed."

Harry took the salve but Hermione nipped it from his hand and shoved it into her robe pocket.

"Am I free to go, then?"

"Yes, you are. I don't want to see you in here until at least next term, Mr. Potter." Madam Pomfrey looked openly skeptical, even as she warned him, and Hermione gave her an apologetic smile.

Harry jumped from the bed and gave Madam Pomfrey a sincere thank you before speeding out the door with Hermione beside him. Now that he was actually here he was anxious to see everyone again, as they'd been at Hogwarts. Outside in the hall, jittery with anticipation, Harry started toward the Gryffindor dormitory.

"Harry, where are you going?" Hermione grabbed his arm and pulled him backward. "It's dinner, everyone will be in the Great Hall."

"Oh." Harry stumbled toward Hermione. She'd never been very gentle with him. "I'm sorry. I guess I'm a little turned around."

"That's to be expected, you have been unconscious after all." She gave his arm another tug. "Now come on, before Ron eats everything."

That was not an idle threat so Harry nodded and trailed behind Hermione, his eyes once again absorbing his surroundings. Though the evidence was all around him, he still couldn't quite believe he was back in time. And not like he'd been in third year, when he and Hermione had gone back only several hours. This was ten years and there was no other self running around the castle. He was living a part of his life he'd never experienced, a part that his friends had already lived through. Despite being prepared, he could hardly comprehend it.

The two of them entered the Great Hall to an explosion of noise. Harry was momentarily taken aback by the volume and raucousness of some of the voices, but Hermione didn't seem to notice as she moved straight toward the Gryffindor table where Ron was waiting for them. Two steps into the Great Hall, Harry's feet shuffled to a halt. The scene before him felt unreal. The Hospital Wing with Madam Pomfrey and Hermione had been like a flick to the nose compared to the sledgehammer that was seeing the entire student body as it had been in his seventh year, all gathered for a normal evening meal.

Harry shook his head in wonder.

Hermione, who had continued walking, stopped and looked over her shoulder when she noticed Harry wasn't beside her. Her lips turned down and she marched back toward him, and Harry was sure she would try to drag him bodily to the table if he didn't hurry up. Which was good because it was probably the only way he was every going to be able to move again. But instead she stopped an arm's length and only searched his face.

"Harry, are you sure you're all right?"

Her concern touched him, he hadn't appreciated it enough during their days at Hogwarts. He smiled reassuringly. "I'm fine."

Hermione stared into his face a moment longer, clearly trying to gauge his honesty, then turned back toward the table. Harry followed her quickly, not wanting to make her worry, and slipped into an open seat beside Ron.

"Only a month into school and you've already had an accident." Ron laughed and slapped Harry on the back. "That didn't take long, did it?"

Harry smiled broadly at the seventeen year old Ron. Like Hermione, he wasn't very different from his older self. His hair had darkened a bit with age, and there was definitely less of it, but all in all he was much the same.

"I suppose not," Harry replied, his eyes leaving Ron's face to sweep over the faces at their table. "Some things don't change."

Ron snorted and turned his attention back to his full plate while Harry and Hermione began to fill plates of their own.

Dinner passed uneventfully. Harry spent most of his time looking at the people around him and comparing them to their future selves. So many students were nothing at all like they'd been at Hogwarts, while others were exactly the same. It gave Harry an odd feeling of detachment, this knowledge of the future. For a brief moment he thought of all the ways he could change what was to come and was reminded of how, fifteen years ago, he and Hermione had saved two lives and in the doing altered the future in unknowable ways. This time around all he had to do was leave well enough alone. It was a relief in some ways, and terrifying in others.

"Hogsmeade tomorrow," Ron burst out suddenly. Harry swung around to face him and was surprised to notice his ears were brick red. "I suppose you'll make us practice Quidditch instead." He toyed with his potatoes.

"No." Harry's denial was immediate. The idea of running a Quidditch practice made him uneasy. He hadn't played properly for years and trying to prep the Gryffindor team for a game was not something he wanted to tackle. He would only be back a couple days and coaching was high on the list of things he was rather hoping to avoid.

Ron's shoulders straightened considerably. "Right. Well, that's good." He cast a furtive look across the table toward Hermione, who kept her gaze on her plate. Harry noticed the look but thought nothing of it.

"There's a trip to Hogsmeade this weekend?" Neville, who was next to Hermione, perked up. "I'd forgotten."

"No surprise there, Neville." Ron muttered before shoveling a forkful of potato into his mouth.

"Ron." Hermione gave him a warning glance.

His eyes rounded. "What?"

Hermione's only response was to sigh and shake her head.

Harry was reaching for a second helping of treacle tart when a hand tapped his shoulder. Curious, he turned at the waist and looked up into the wide, concerned brown eyes of Ginny Weasley. She stood directly behind him, her hands clasped in front of her, and an uncertain smile on her face. It was an odd pose for the normally confident Ginny, and Harry was reminded sharply of the girl he'd known in third year, not the one that tore through his life like a whirlwind in sixth.

"Hi." Harry wiped at his mouth and smiled politely.

"I heard about Potions. Are you okay?" Her gaze drifted over his face and she grimaced in sympathy at the sight of his angry red skin. "It looks painful."

"It's not that bad, really. Madam Pomfrey is a miracle worker."

"Oh. Well, that's good." Ginny hesitated for a moment, as if she wanted to say more. Harry waited, not wanting to prolong the awkward conversation for longer than was necessary, and eventually Ginny smiled thinly and moved around him toward Hugh Martin, who was eyeing Harry suspiciously. As if he'd nearly blown off his face on purpose, just to get Ginny to talk to him again. Harry decided it was best not to watch the younger girl walk away; instead he turned back to the table in time to see Ron and Neville exchanging significant looks and Hermione watching him from beneath lowered lashes. Immediately they busied themselves by stuffing food into their mouths.

Harry didn't have to guess at what they were thinking. On this date ten years ago he would have felt like he was floating on air to have Ginny concerned for him. Or, more likely, been resentful to have her approach him and then leave him to head directly to her new boyfriend. Thankfully he was ten years wiser and didn't have to worry about either of those reactions. For him, all of this was water that had gone under the bridge a long time ago.

"So, Hogsmeade." Harry's voice was unnaturally cheerful. Despite his indifference to this whole situation, he didn't enjoy being watched like he was some bomb about to go off. "Are we all going together then?"

Hermione shot Ron a look. It was lightning fast and Harry wouldn't have noticed it if he hadn't been staring right at her. Curious about what the two might be keeping from him, Harry turned to Ron and saw the redhead playing with his food, his mouth moving in awkward silence.

That's when it dawned on him.

The beginning of seventh year was when Ron and Hermione had been considering the possibility of maybe becoming a couple. He hadn't paid much attention to it at the time, having been caught up in his own drama, but he had been vaguely aware of a mutual interest between them. It wasn't until years later that he'd learned the whole of what their fledgling relationship had entailed. Immediately Harry's curiosity turned sour.

"Ron?" he prodded, trying, but probably failing, to keep a slight edge from his voice.

Ron fidgeted in his chair, uncomfortable under Harry's scrutiny. Harry wondered if he was waiting for Hermione to chime in with some viable reason for whatever they'd obviously planned to do together. But Hermione remained silent and, unable to come up with an excuse to exclude him outright, Ron shrugged. "Erm...yeah, of course. Don't be daft."

"Excellent." Harry picked up his fork and resumed eating.

To Be Continued...