We are broken.
What must we do to restart,
Our innocence
And all the problems we adored?
Give us life again,
We just want to whole. – Paramore

She’s Got the Time
By ThatRomantic

Prologue Part 1: We Are Broken

I knew what would happen if I didn’t do this. Not only would history repeat itself but I’d lose more than I had lost before. I would lose everything. I had to step across the threshold. I had to kill him before he killed them.

Then I saw it. The movement of a cloak up ahead. I waited for the hooded figure to walk through the door and, concealed beneath the invisibility cloak I followed after the dark wizard. I saw James standing in the hallway blocking the way to the stairs. I poised my wand, aimed at Voldemort - who was hissing something incoherent to James - and, just as I heard him say the killing curse and I spoke the same, a green light filled the room.

---

She just couldn’t believe that fate would be so cruel. Sirius was dead. Remus had lost his best friend. Harry had lost his only father figure. Harry. He was her best friend; her brother in many ways. She hated to see him suffer the way he did. Why was it that whenever he finally seemed secure everything was taken away from him? She knew him well enough to know that he would want to do all of this on his own. She knew that eventually it would lead to his self-sacrifice. That he would think the only way to protect them would be for them to watch from afar as he rejected any help with the pain he was in. He didn’t realise that by doing that, by doing what he thought would protect them, they were suffering too. She knew that now, with Sirius gone, he’d be tougher to crack than before. She knew he’d also have lost what little innocence he had left. She hated it. She hated standing around and watching him drown in self loathing and wallow in grief. All of them did. The only difference was that she was determined to do something about it.

That was why she spent the last remaining weeks of school researching anything to bring Sirius back. She first researched the veil and its properties. She looked into whether anyone had been brought back successfully in the time the veil had been used with no luck. She tried to discover whether there had been any attempts to bring someone back from the veil - but could find nothing. She researched the magic in as much detail as she could that the Department of Mystery used to create and maintain the veil, to find any fault or loopholes in the spells. She discovered that most of the magical properties were kept secretive and could not compile enough research to enable her attempt to rescue Sirius.

She soon turned to alternative methods of bringing him back. She had almost given up on her search for something to heal Harry’s sanity when her eyes fell upon a book that she had not seen before Tempus Maxim: When Desperate Times Call for Desperate Measures by Maximilian Uhr. She opened the book and read the first page. She grabbed the book and ran to Madame Pince’s desk.
Her prayers were answered.

---

Concern marred the old wizard’s face. He had watched his young tutee grieve the loss of his godfather for the last two weeks with much trepidation. Albus Dumbledore did not like the fact that Harry was in so much woe. It seemed that many of his close friends were trying in earnest to comfort the boy, but to no avail. Albus felt at a loss as to what to do.

He thought of Harry as a child – or grandchild, given his age – and wanted the best for him. He wanted to bring the one thing he loved the most back to him but he knew he couldn’t. He knew how but the risks were far too high and could upset the very existence of life as he, and those around him, knew it. He was aware, however, that Harry had been trying to find a way to bring Sirius back, and for that reason he went down to the library to check out a book that if discovered could have disastrous consequences.

Heading straight to the Advanced Magic section of the library and the authors beginning with ‘U,’ he searched for the life changing book.

There was a gap where it was expected to be.

Blast it.

Do you want the truth or something beautiful?
Just close your eyes and make believe.
Do you want the truth or something beautiful?
I am happy to deceive you. – Paloma Faith

She’s Got the Time
By ThatRomantic

Prologue Part 2: Do You Want the Truth or Something Beautiful?

In her reading over the first two weeks of summer, Hermione was sure she had found what would solve their problem. To bring Sirius and Harry back. That was all that mattered to her at that moment. To help Harry. She was wary when she first discovered the spell, and what might happen were she to use it. She had thought about it. She’d researched the spell in detail, gaining as much material in the library as she possibly could. She’d even gone into the restricted section to research it, to assure herself that the spell wasn’t as dark as it seemed on first glance. She had taken so many books out of the library that she had asked Madame Pince to loan them over the holidays. This had not been a problem, since the librarian had realised Hermione’s respect for the old tomes over the years.

After debating the notion during countless sleepless nights in her head, she came to the conclusion that she should do it. The spell itself enabled the person it is cast on to travel back in time. It was highly unstable and she knew she would need help from a powerful wizard to make it work, but she wanted to risk it. The spell wouldn’t effect time itself if it went wrong, but it would erase her birth from the histories. The spell enabled the traveller to go a maximum of twenty years into the past; this amount of time was also the ‘default’ number of years of travel. This meant that even if the spell went wrong, somehow, there was a likely hood that she could still meet Sirius and save him before he went to Azkaban. She had also discovered it would start rewriting history from the moment the time traveller arrived in the alternative universe.

With her mind made up, she decided to go to the one place she knew to be constant, were the spell to go wrong. It also happened to be the residence of the only wizard she deemed powerful enough to cast the spell.

‘No time like the present.’

---

Dumbledore sat in his office, a frown upon his face. He had been monitoring the movements of the book that he had tried to acquire from the library and was shocked to discover that it had not been returned before the holidays began.

He discovered that the book was taken out by one bushy-haired, formally buck-toothed, petite young lady whom he was sure knew of the dangers and implications of using such a spell. He’d also seen that she had loaned several more books on the same subject and couldn’t help but be concerned.

He convinced himself that he would dissuade her as much as possible. However, he was perfectly aware of the girl’s stubbornness.

---

After her parents had, thankfully, decided on an early night, Hermione quietly made her way downstairs. Her house had been connected to the Floo network the previous summer so she could commute quickly and easily to the Burrow, Diagon Alley, and Hogsmeade. She had packed a trunk of Muggle clothes and Hogwarts robes in case she was sent back further than she anticipated, and decided that she would buy books and other such things when she arrived to guarantee she would not have anything too advanced in time for her to use; such as outdated books and her state of the art electric toothbrush. After grabbing the handle of her trunk, she took a handful of the Floo powder and threw it into the grate as she stepped into the emerald flames.

“Hogs Head,” she stated clearly. She landed with a thump on her bottom, standing quickly and dusting herself off before scampering for the door. She ran to the school gates in her eagerness and hurried through the halls to the headmaster’s office hoping he lived there during the holidays. The gargoyle simply jumped aside with no password, due to the holidays being in session. Scurrying up the steps, she knocked frantically on the door.
“Enter,” Dumbledore said, his voice coming from the opposite side of the wooden barrier.

“Ah, Miss Granger, to what do I owe this delightfully unexpected visit?”

“Sir,” she said, “I wish to use the Tempus Maxim spell to travel back and warn Sirius of his death, perhaps even save him myself.”

“Miss Granger, that particular spell is very temperamental and highly unstable, not to mention you would risk facing life in prison for tampering with time.”

“I’m aware of that, and I’m prepared no matter what happens. The furthest back I can go is twenty years. That means I’d be at school with the Marauders. That means I have the power to change history completely. I could fight in the first war. I’d know things they won’t. Please sir, I don’t want Harry, or anyone else, to suffer anymore – and it’s within my power to stop it.”

“That is a lot to ask of you, Miss Granger. Why are you willing to sacrifice as much as Harry seems to now?”

“He’s my brother and I want him to have a childhood. Even if it means that I have to give mine up. Sirius’s death showed us all the fragility of our situation and made us see just a portion of the suffering that may be coming. Harry’s lost so much already; I just want him to have something back. If I go back I may save lives that have not already been ruined; save lives before they are taken, mend homes before they are broken. Could you imagine what it would be to see Molly Weasley lose one of her sons or her only daughter – even her doting husband? What do you think the school would be like without you, or Professor McGonagall? I can change that. Harry can have his parents, Lupin can have his best friends, and Mrs Weasley could even have her brothers.”

“Miss Granger, I really must say that tampering with time is highly dangerous. You could erase your existence; create whole new problems – worse than Voldemort. Please do try and consider what you are doing.”

“I know this, Professor; I’ve read in detail about the implications of the spell. I came here because I know that if it does go wrong I am at a place that was around twenty years ago. I also believed that you are the only person likely to get the spell right. Please, Professor. If you do not cast the spell I will find someone else who will.”

“Very well, Miss Granger. I have to ask that in the event of travelling further than intended you use the knowledge I have recently acquired to your advantage.”
“What knowledge, sir?”

“I believe that to defeat Lord Voldemort we must first destroy his soul.” After saying this he made his way over to his penseive and gathered vials of memories before placing them in a red velvet drawstring bag. “Miss Granger, would you mind terribly if I were to write a letter to myself for you to give to me?”

“No, I don’t mind, sir,” she answered, still a little apprehensive as to what her headmaster was asking. He hastily wrote a letter in his elegant script that he folded and placed in an envelope, which he also included in the drawstring bag.

“Give this to me if you find yourself further back than intended, even if it is a mere five years, Miss Granger. This information is very important for the defeat of Voldemort.”

“Sir, surely these things are for Harry to know. He is, after all, the one who is prophesised to kill Voldemort.”

“Ah, but Miss Granger, as you said; if you end up in 1976 then you have the opportunity to change history.”

“Sir, are you saying that if I go back in time to before the Prophesy, I am to fulfil it?”

“Yes, Miss Granger. You are to kill Voldemort.”

And although,
You’re the only home I’ll know
As if by magic,
Thoughts of you are gone. –La Roux

She’s Got the Time
Part I: Summer 1976
By ThatRomantic

Chapter 1: As If by Magic

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was sitting peacefully in his cosy office. He could hear all of his contraptions ticking to their own beat and dancing to their own tune. He was filling out some papers the Minister for Magic had insisted he take a look at and was, frankly, really rather tired of the tedious task. Fawkes, his Phoenix, made a cooing sound and he turned to look at the bird to see what had disturbed it. He loved the bird, and the bird’s observant nature astounded even him.

“What is it Fawkes?” he asked the fiery golden bird softly. Fawkes cooed again and bowed his head, as if in grief.

“Yes, I know, my dear fellow, I miss him too,” the old man replied sweetly. He looked across at the only photograph he kept in the office. It stood in an elegant frame upon his desk, hidden discreetly by the permanent pile of papers and heavy books on his desk so that no one could see it. In the photo, two men were smiling back at him; one a tall man with a grey streaked auburn beard, and long hair of the same shade. His half-moon spectacles sat atop a very crooked, pale nose. The other man was shorter by a few inches and was just as dark as the other man seemed light. His shoulder-length straight hair was sprinkled with white like the auburn man, but – unlike the auburn man – he did not wear glasses. His nose was straight and his eyes a deep honey brown. His dark beard was more haphazard than the other man’s and the hair on his top lip curled regally.

A wrinkling hand reached toward the photograph and stroked the glass by the dark haired man’s cheek.

“So much has changed since then,” Albus said, to no one in particular. “We were carefree. I cannot believe that he’s gone now.” Albus looked at the photograph wistfully and carried himself away to another time. He was broken out of his reminisce by a blinding green light filling his office. He looked over his desk to the source of the light. Just as quickly as it had come, it faded; leaving black dots in front of Albus’s eyes. He flicked his wrist and the candles within the office lit again. He was astonished to see that on the floor in front of his desk lay a girl.

Her thick curly hair covered half of her face and all of the joints of her limbs were dislocated. She had a sheen of sweat across her body and goosebumps on her skin. Her eyes were rolled back so he could only see the whites and her body was convulsing violently. Her breathing seemed laboured and, from what he could see from her expression, she was in agony. He walked around his desk to better examine her. As he approached her, her seizure slowed, her eyes rolled forward, the sweat seemed to disappear and her joints snapped back into place, and as they did, so her hands hit the floor. There was a distinct sound of wood snapping when this happened, and he saw the girl’s eyes widen in shock and fear and look to her left hand. He thought he saw a piece of broken wood with what looked like a black thick cord poking out of it that looked remarkably like a heartstring. She peered through her hair and looked up at the man before her.

“Sir,” the girl croaked, her voice hoarse from the previous events, “do you know who I am?” Albus shook his head, shocked as to the events unfolding before his eyes.

“What year is it?” she asked quietly.

“Nineteen Seventy-Six,” he answered. Albus was intrigued as to how and why a teenage girl practically materialised in his office at ten thirty at night.

As if she could read his mind she asked, “Sir, what do you know of the spell Tempus Maxim?”

Albus was truly taken aback by the question. He was astounded that someone seemingly so young would know such a complex and dangerous spell. He answered her question cautiously, “It allows the user to travel backwards through time, but it is not reliable and has been known to have disastrous consequences; if it does go wrong, the traveller will be sent back twenty years. Why do you ask about such a highly complex spell?”

“You used it on me, sir.”

“Oh, my.” He was astounded that he would agree to such an act. The spell could effectively wipe out timelines and the people in them. It was highly volatile, and only in drastic measures would he allow himself to cast such a spell. Wherever this girl had come from, he knew that this had been the last resort. He did not understand what could happen for him to do such a thing, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

The girl continued, apparently unaware of Albus’s hesitation in trusting her. “Yes, I was only intending to go back a few months from my time, but it seems the spell has backfired and I have come here. To 1976.” This explained a lot to the old man and also brought up several questions. The fact that the spell had backfired meant that she was from twenty years from now. She knew things that he did not, and that scared him enormously. Not because he wanted to know, but because she knew things that, for him, were uncertain.

“May I enquire your name please?”

“Hermione Granger, sir. I’m in Gryffindor and will be going into my sixth year.” He could not help but smile inwardly at this. Another Gryffindor to wreak havoc.

“Very good, very good. Now tell me, Miss Granger, why did you use such a complex spell? There must have been some dire need?”

“You gave me a letter to give to you if the spell backfired. You also gave me these,” she said, passing the Professor a deep crimson drawstring bag. He took it and eyed it suspiciously. He knew this bag well – it was something he had received from a dear loved one not so long ago. He undid the gold drawstrings and opened the bag with care, walking to his desk chair as he did so. There was a clinking of glass inside and he thought he saw a glint of silvery white. There was an envelope in heavy parchment, with handwriting that he recognised at once as his own, and plucked it from the bag. He opened the letter and read:

Dear Albus,

If you are receiving this letter, my plan has worked. You may question me and be looking at this parchment with a frown upon your face, but I assure you there is logic to my madness.

The fact that Miss Granger is with you means that you can work together to create a world that I will never know. When Miss Granger came to me tonight, I was sceptical myself as to whether this spell was worth my while. I can’t help but think that perhaps it is. That is why I sent her to you, Albus – she has knowledge about the world you currently live in that you do not. This can work to your advantage.

We are on the brink of a Second Wizarding War with Voldemort and I’m weary. I am in no health to fight this battle, Albus, and the dark side is strong. I am scared they may win. They have a real chance now, just as they did in your war, only their hold on the Ministry and the people is worse than I’ve ever seen before. Voldemort has new recruits as well as his old allies behind him. He is gathering non-human support as well and is using very persuasive and terror-filled methods to gain support from others. The light may not survive, and I am almost certain that I will not be there to guide them.

Miss Granger’s best friend, Harry Potter – Lily and James Potter’s son – is prophesised to defeat Lord Voldemort. However, with her being in your time this may change. I have given you – along with this letter – some memories. These memories will aid you in the defeat of Voldemort and you are to train Miss Granger in this task.

I believe that the reason that Voldemort returned in my timeline is that he has made Horcruxes. In my time, Voldemort lost power when he visited the Potter’s house on October 31, 1981. He killed both Lily and James Potter and attempted to kill Harry. However, the spell backfired upon him due to ancient magic that he did not understand. That night was fifteen years ago. However, in July 1995, Voldemort returned to full power (having attempted to rise again from around five years before) and I only discovered four years ago how.

Tom Riddle made a Horcrux out of an old school diary. He possessed a young girl and opened the Chamber of Secrets from 1992-1993. However, due to his rise at the end of Mister Potter’s and Miss Granger’s fourth year, I had reason to believe there were more than one made. There were. I have destroyed another, and am on the trail of a third, however, I do not know how many he intended or intends to make. This is why you need Miss Granger.

She has been fighting Voldemort along with Harry since her first year. She is the brightest witch of her age – possibly more brilliant than Lily Evans and Severus Snape. She is level headed and logical and will most likely not do anything without thinking about it first. She is studious and determined and – so I’m told – has a mean left hook.

I would have been giving Mister Potter this task this year but as Miss Granger presented an opportunity to amend these things before they begin, I am leaving these things up to you to teach the witch you see before you. I believe that she has the strength to defeat the Dark Side along with the help of the Order and any friends she may make along the way.

Suggest to her that she take Julian’s name and tell her that you were close. I know he has just left your world but let her carry his name on – even if it is a falsity. I would advise that you become her guardian.

I hope this explains to you sufficiently the tasks at hand, Albus, and don’t lose hope like I have. Have faith in those surrounding you.

Albus Dumbledore
Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 1996

P.S. Get Miss Granger to talk to Horace. There is a memory that he has given me that is false. It is imperative to your mission that you get the true memory.

Tears threatened to surface to Albus’s eyes. He was astonished at his own lack of confidence in his own cause. He was disturbed at what the girl in front of him and her friends had been through. He was fighting an underground battle from where he sat, but nothing as bad as this had ever come up in the war he was currently fighting. He’d never lost hope. He composed himself and looked back at the girl on the other side of the desk. She was looking at him with a mixture of fear and hope. “My, my,” he murmured to himself, “you must be a powerful young woman if I believed you capable of overcoming such a powerful nemesis.”

The girl looked at him with wonder and awe. She didn’t seem to know how to respond to that comment. She simply nodded and said, “Yes, I suppose. Sir, I believe, due to the fact that I am here before my birth date, there will be some problems I didn’t anticipate.”

This was true, she would not have anticipated the problems she now faced. He decided to start following his own advice from the letter he had read. They needed to create a new identity for the girl so that the fabrics of time would not be destroyed. “That is true. I believe that I have an alibi and family name for you to use. You must create a new identity for yourself and learn the story we are going to tell the rest of the world well. We must not have any floors.”

“Yes, sir. I was hoping to keep my given name. I like it and it is not a very common name.”

“Very well. The family name I was going to suggest was Gardener. It corresponds with your backstory, which I will tell you in a moment. When were you born?”

“September 19, 1979,” she answered.

“Keep the day but change the year – you were born in 1959.”

“What was your idea for what I should tell others?”

Albus sighed and braced himself to tell his story, “Someone very close and dear to me has just recently died in an attack on his village. I could say that you were his daughter from his marriage. His ex-wife had died early in the marriage, so let us say that you were left in my care due to the relationship between Julian and I.” The girl stayed quiet after this as though sensing that it was a sensitive issue. He thanked her for her silence. “What subjects will you be taking, my dear?”

“Potions, Transfiguration, Charms, Arithmancy, Defence Against the Dark Arts, History of Magic, and Herbology.”

“Six? Well, my dear, if you feel you can cope with that many then by all means you may attend those classes.”

“Thank you, Professor. I need clothes and books and things. I brought my trunk but didn’t pack things that could be too advanced in time, should the spell go wrong.”

“Very well, but I feel that you have had quite enough excitement for one day. For now, I feel that bed is what you need.” With that, he gently took her hand and led her from his office. They reached a portrait of a vampire and a werewolf in a seemingly passionate embrace. “Here you are. This room can serve as your quarters for your stay here at Hogwarts before the first term commences. The password is ‘between.’”

“Thank you, sir, for your understanding.”

“Oh, Miss Gardener, before I forget, when school begins I wish to explain in full what my future self has told me. I would like to see you once a week during the term.”

“Of course, Professor. Goodnight.” With that she stepped through the portrait hole.

---

Albus had one more stop after escorting Miss Gardener to her quarters before he took some well earned rest. He stopped at his old rooms and knocked on the door. He knew the occupant would be awake – most probably reading by the fire – and had no qualms about knocking on her door at a quarter past midnight. Sure enough, not two minutes after he knocked the prim dark haired occupant came to the door. Her dark hair, which was usually tied back in a severe bun, was hanging down her back in waves. She was wearing a deep forest green dressing gown that tied at her small waist. Her green eyes were bleary and unfocussed but instantly became alert when she saw who had knocked.

“Albus?” she asked in a Scottish brogue, “What are you doing here so late?”

“I must speak to you, Minerva. It is essential that I talk to you tonight.”

“Come in then, Albus,” Minerva said looking at the old man with hesitation in her eyes. “What seems to be the problem?”

“Earlier tonight I had a visitor to my office,” Albus said, “she is from another time – now she is even from another dimension, due to the fact that she knows a timeline that no longer exists – and is currently residing in the second Defence Against the Dark Arts quarters. She is a victim of the Tempus Maxim.” At this Minerva gasped. He knew that she was aware of what this meant to the girl, herself and the world around her.

“Oh, my!” she said.

Albus inwardly chuckled at her exclamatory. “Yes,” he continued, “it seems that my future self, or rather an alternate of myself, saw it fit to send a sixteen year old girl to another time period and dimension of reality entirely.”

“But Albus, you know what this means, don’t you? This could change the whole course of history. The girl will never exist the way she does today and the world she knows…” Minerva trailed off, the seriousness of the situation hitting her. “Albus, what made your… other… self think that this was a wise choice?”

“It seems, Minerva, that I was losing hope.”

“Hope? Hope for what?”

“That is not relevant now, but if there is one thing I learned from myself it is that I must not let the events of that girl’s past unfold in our future.”

“Why did you come to me?” the witch asked.

“I thought you ought to know. She said that she was in Gryffindor and the things she’ll have to do in the next few years show that she will be again. You will be her housemistress and will have to guide her more than any other you have before. She may need a firm female figure to look to in her times of need and there is no one that I trust more than any other to give her that.” After this, Minerva didn’t seem to know what to say, she just nodded dumbly.

“Of course Albus, whatever you need,” she said, dully.

“Thank you. Miss Gardener – the ward I have just explained to you about – said she is in need of some supplies. I was hoping that you would be willing to join her shopping tomorrow.”

“Yes, yes. That sounds wonderful.”

“Well then, thank you Minerva. I will see you in my office tomorrow at nine o’clock to use the Floo in my office to get to Diagon Alley. Goodnight, my dear.”

“Goodnight, Albus. Sleep well.” With that adieu, the headmaster left and climbed up to his own chambers. Unfortunately, his mind was buzzing so much with all the things that had happened that day that he did not sleep well.

Life, is crazy how,
Some things never
Work out.
But I’m hoping that this time goes right. – Ryan Cabrera

She’s Got the Time: Part I
By ThatRomantic

Chapter 2: Blind Sight

The next morning Hermione woke up excited. Today was the day she was going to the Burrow. She couldn’t wait to see her best friends again. In her enthusiasm, she threw her covers off her body and landed on her feet ready for an exciting day. She could tell Harry all about the spell and...

Suddenly, the events of the previous day hit her, and she immediately slumped onto the bed. She missed them and she’d only been away for less than a day. It felt like a year. She wasn’t sure how she’d cope living here, in the past, without them, without their parents, knowing what could happen if she did this wrong. She wondered what Harry’s reaction would be if she’d been able to tell him that she could go back and meet his parents. Begging to join her was the conclusion she had come to eventually. That was part of the reason she didn’t tell him; she knew he would want to join her and she couldn’t risk him meeting his parents. She sighed and looked at the clock on the bedside cabinet. Seven-thirty; she was meeting McGonagall to go to Diagon Ally at nine o’clock, so she took a look around the room since she didn’t give herself much opportunity the night before.

The room was set into the eaves of the castle, giving it a unique character. Above the bed was a small window that gave sufficient light to the room. The room was small, with just enough room for the double bed, wardrobe and desk. The floor was mahogany wood, and contrasted nicely with the oak of the bed frame, the desk and the wardrobe. The walls were painted in a beautiful deep purple and the bedspread matched the cream and purple curtains hung about the windows. Hermione smiled. It would take some getting used to, but she liked it all the same.

She walked over to the small, white bathroom. She stripped to take a shower. After letting the water run over her body and washing her long curls under the spray, Hermione stepped out and wrapped a warm, fluffy, burgundy towel around her and brushed her teeth.

After drying her hair and dressing, she grabbed her cloak and headed down for breakfast.

---

The one thing that had not changed since her time was the hustle and bustle that made up Diagon Alley. She smiled to herself at that thought. She was glad that there was something constant in her life, even if it was chaos. She looked up at McGonagall—or Minerva as she was instructed to call her—and smiled. The old woman didn’t seem to have as many wrinkles. Hermione quickly deducted that she was around fifty years old and the first war had only just begun, so the stress Minerva faced over the next twenty years was probably what caused her to look old for her age in Hermione’s time.

“What do you need, Miss Gardener?” Minerva asked. Hermione didn’t answer right away since she still hadn’t gotten used to her new identity.

“Oh, erm, these things,” Hermione said, handing Minerva a list of school supplies, “and some essentials: everyday robes, toiletries, underwear. I’d also like a pet, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Well, it’s just as well we came in earlier than intended, isn’t it? This shopping will take all day! First of all we should go to Gringotts. Albus said that you had access to his accounts. After that, we shall gather all the things we need from Wizarding shops and then we can head to the Muggle shops for your everyday essentials.”

“Sounds brilliant!” With that they headed to the huge white building and withdrew a small fortune from the Dumbledore account.

“Where to first?” Minerva asked once they had left.

“Ollivander’s. I need a new wand; mine was broken at my arrival.”

“Very well,” Minerva replied and they set off for the dingy shop. It was just as she remembered it, although there was slightly less dust on a few of the wands than she remembered.

“Ah,” came a voice. “Minerva, what may I do for you today?”

“Miss Gardener is in need of a replacement wand.”

“Is that so? I remember every wand I ever sold and the owner of each of those wands, why is it that I cannot remember you?”

“We lived in France for a time. That’s where I got my last wand.” Ollivander seemed to accept this as a fairly reasonable answer, although he didn’t seem entirely convinced.

“Very well, your wand arm—if you please?”

“Left arm,” she replied.

“Here, twelve inches, ash, unicorn hair—very good for Charms,” Ollivander said. Hermione flicked it and the plant pot opposite her blew up.

“Maybe not. Hmm...thirteen inches, vine, phoenix feather,” he said, handing her another wand. Again the wand was not for her.

“How about this? Thirteen inches, cherry, unicorn hair,” he said, handing her the wand.

“Try this, ten and three-quarter inches, vine, dragon heartstring.”

My wand, she thought as she took it. However, what happened made Hermione blanch. Instead of the usual tingling sensation she felt running down her fingertips when she held her wand, it instantly sparked and burned her hand.

“My, my! Most certainly not that one. Ahh, yes. Eleven inches, holly, phoenix feather,” Hermione tried not to look too shocked when she recognised the description as Harry’s wand. No, she thought, this isn’t supposed to be my wand. She held it and willed it to have the same effect the other wands had, but to her utter astonishment, and almost disgust, the wand made her body feel electric and a blast of silver light protruded from the end. It was a memory, showing Harry. It was only brief and then it disappeared.

“Well. How very intriguing,” Ollivander said. “I’ve never seen such a strong reaction between a person and their wand. You, my, dear, are destined to do great things with this wand.” All Hermione could do was stand there dumbstruck. She was still speechless when she handed over the seven Galleons for the wand, and still so when she walked out into the street.

“Are you alright, dear?” came the kind voice of McGonagall.

“Yes,” Hermione replied, attempting to wipe the gormless look off her face. “Where now?”

“Madame Malkin’s for some robes, I think. We can’t have you wearing the same ones all summer!”

“All right,” Hermione said. When she walked in, she noticed nothing had changed. She saw, however, that she was not alone. Standing on a footstool was a pale skinned, long haired young man being fitted for what looked like dress robes.

“Watch it! This is expensive material, you know!” the young man yelled at the shop assistant. He glanced at Hermione and smirked. “Lucius Malfoy,” the blonde boy said, “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you yet.”

“Hermione Gr-ardener,” Hermione replied shortly, stepping onto the stool beside him for fitting. She wasn’t sure that meeting Lucius was a ‘pleasure.’ She knew from personal experience that he wasn’t someone she particularly wanted to know.

“I haven’t heard the name. Do you go to Hogwarts?”

“I haven’t until now. I was home-schooled, but my parents were attacked by Death Eaters. I am Professor Dumbledore’s ward.”

“Ah. Well. I left Hogwarts three years ago, it is a shame I will not have the pleasure of knowing you better,” he said with a slight leer. She had to hold back her look of disgust.

Three years. That would make him almost three years older than Narcissa, as Hermione was told that she was one of the youngest in the year above the Marauders. Poor girl, Hermione couldn’t help but think, she was probably married straight out of school. She never thought she’d see the day she felt pity for the Malfoy matriarch.

“You are finished, Mr Malfoy,” said the lady who was serving him. “We’ll be finished with the robe within the week.”

“Thank you, I must be off. People to see, plans to make,” he said and swept out of the shop. When he left Hermione visibly shivered.

“You’re ready to go now, dear,” said the assistant. With that, Hermione jumped off the stool and exited the shop.

---

The first thing she heard when she entered the large bookshop was a heated debate.

“No! The best book for Animagi transformations is Animagus Life by Mark Shoos,” a red haired girl around Hermione’s age told a boy with sandy hair and amber eyes.

“As a biography, yes, it’s good and it does explain the feelings an Animagus has in their transformation but it doesn’t explain what it takes to become one,” the boy retorted, “if you wanted to become an Animagus then Changing Plains is an essential read.”

“Changing Plains has nothing interesting in it. It doesn’t show the kinds of feelings that an Animagus goes through in its transformation. Animagus Life helps someone who wants to become an Animagus to understand the strains, the emotions; the stuff you should know before you even consider becoming an Animagus,” the red head retorted.

Hermione was fascinated by the debate but more so by the fact that standing in front of her was a teenage Remus Lupin and Lily Evans. Lily Evans and Remus Lupin were debating about a book before her very eyes. This wasn’t even a memory she had stepped into. This was reality. She had the overwhelming urge to reach out and touch Lily. To hug and kiss Remus. She couldn’t do that though; instead she turned and spoke to them as she walked past.

“Neither of you are right. The Encyclopaedia of Animagi and their Transformation by C.H. Anger is the most complete summary of anything related to Animagi,” and headed toward the potions sections. As she was turning the corner of a bookshelf she saw in her peripheral vision the two teens staring at her, eyes wide and mouths open. She smiled to herself.

Just as she was collecting her third book, someone tapped her on the shoulder. She turned and almost dropped her book in shock at seeing Harry’s green eyes staring back at her. “Yes?” she asked.

“Erm...” Lily started, “my name’s Lily Evans. I haven’t seen you around here before.”

“No. I’ve just moved here. My name’s Hermione Gardener, I’m Professor Dumbledore’s ward,” Hermione replied, outstretching her hand.

“I didn’t know Dumbledore had a daughter,” Lily replied, hesitantly taking Hermione’s hand and shaking it.

“He doesn’t. My father was close to him but he died in an attack on my village. I was sent to Dumbledore, as he was my named guardian. He adopted me almost as soon as I stepped through the threshold.”

“I see,” Lily answered. She looked down at the book in Hermione’s hand. “Are you coming to Hogwarts this year?”

“Yes. I’m really looking forward to it. I’m getting a feel of the castle, living there, but I can’t wait to start lessons,” Hermione replied with a smile.

“What year will you be in?”

“Sixth.”

“I’m going into sixth year this year too! You should come over before the summer is over; it’s always difficult to meet new people in a new school. Especially since everyone will know everyone.”

Hermione smiled. So much for nature or nurture, she thought, imagining that Harry would do a similar thing in Lily’s situation, “I’d love that! It’d be nice to get out of the castle for a while and see people my own age instead of the professors,” she said.

“Are you finished here?” Lily asked. “Only if you pay I can show you around more of Diagon Alley.”

“Yes, I’m nearly finished, only one more book and then I’ll pay. Wait for me?”

“Sure.” Lily replied and after Hermione retrieved her last book and paid the two girls started to talk animatedly to each other about various books and subjects. On the way out of the shop, they passed by Remus standing with a stout mousey boy. Pettigrew. It took all of Hermione’s willpower not to hex him into the last century, and she was sure that she was giving him an odd look.

“Bye, Lupin,” Lily said. “See you in school.”

“Bye, Evans. Bye... I’m sorry I don’t think we’ve formally been introduced. Remus Lupin, pleased to make your acquaintance,” Remus said, extending his hand to Hermione.

“Hermione Gardener,” she answered, shaking his proffered hand.

“Peter Pettigrew, miss,” Pettigrew said, offering his hand in the same manner. Hermione fought a scowl and took his chubby hand.

“Pleasure,” she said, a little too dismissively from the looks she received from the other three teens. “Really,” she said to amend herself. “It’s so good to meet people my age. Albus and Minerva are nice enough, but I need someone to talk about something other than the fascinating aspect of transfiguring a goblet to a cow.”

“Albus and Minerva?” Remus asked.

“I’m living in Hogwarts at the moment. I was orphaned and left to Albus by my Dad.” Remus raised an eyebrow at this.

“Well, we must be off; lots to do before school!” Peter said.

“We’d better be going too, I promised the ‘rents I’d be quick and if I’m showing you around the place then we have to hurry,” Lily said to Hermione, who simply nodded and followed the group out of the shop. The girls waved goodbye to the boys, who headed in the opposite direction.

---

“Wow!” Hermione exclaimed.

“I know,” Lily said with a similar amount of awe in her voice. “The wizarding world never ceases to amaze me.” Hermione smiled. She liked Lily; she seemed to be similar to herself. She wasn’t used to this kind of connection with a girl, or even a boy. She had had Ginny, but their relationship wasn’t based on academic parallels. Ginny was more an outlet for when she needed to talk to a girl, but Lily was different. That was why they were standing in the apothecary, gazing at the shelves ceiling-high full of potions ingredients. She’d been in there before, but she still marvelled at the sheer magnitude of it all.

“May I help you?” a gruff voice asked, and they soon got the supplies they wanted.

“Where next?” Lily asked.

“I want a pet. An owl preferably, but I had a cat until I... moved,” Hermione replied.

“This way then,” Lily said pointing toward the magical emporium.

As soon as they stepped in the door Hermione felt drawn to the back of the shop. There in the corner of the store in a small cage was a young, pale barn owl, staring out at her with its black eyes. She instantly fell in love with it, and decided that she just had to buy the creature. She paid for it and left the shop with a smile on her face, a bird cage in hand and Lily beside her. Soon, however, Lily said that she really should be getting back to her parents. Hermione checked her own watch and was shocked to see that she had fifteen minutes before she was to meet Professor McGonagall. They hugged and said their farewells, and Hermione promised to write during the week before heading down the high street.

---

The crowds surrounding the Quidditch Quality Supplies shop window had not thinned from Hermione’s memory of her own time. Among the crowd, she saw a familiar head of jet black, scruffy hair and a glint of glasses that rested on his face. In a momentary lapse of memory she called out to the recognisable scrawny figure.

“Harry!” she yelled through the crowd, waving her arms to gain the boy’s attention. When he turned around, however, she was not met with the familiar vibrant emerald eyes but with curious hazel eyes. Her breath caught in her throat, her eyes stung from tears of either reminiscence or embarrassment, she was unsure which.

“Do I know you?” the boy asked while trying to gain eye contact with her downcast eyes. She flushed with embarrassment and could feel her whole face turn red.

“No, sorry I – I mistook you for a friend of mine.” Taking a deep breath to compose herself, she extended her hand toward the boy. “Hermione Gardener.”

“James Potter,” he said smiling. “So this friend of yours, was he more or less handsome than me?” he asked confidently. That was when Hermione noticed the difference between Harry and James. Where Harry would wear oversized Muggle clothes, James was adorning well cut and expensive robes. There were no scars on James’s face and his bright hazel eyes held none of the sorrow Harry’s emerald ones did. James also seemed to have a slightly stronger, heavier jaw line than his son did, and his hair was longer and messier. Hermione soon deduced that this was due to the Punk trends starting its influx, and was more out of choice rather than necessity.

“I can’t say,” Hermione soon said after her evaluation of the boy. “He was my best friend – I never thought of him that way. I’d say you were equal in your looks; be them good or flawed,” Hermione smiled.

“I would never say my looks are flawed but I suppose we shall have to leave it there,” James smiled. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around. Are you new to the area or have my observational skills failed me?”

“I’m new. I’ll be starting in sixth year at Hogwarts this year,” Hermione replied.

“Brilliant!” James beamed. “You’ll be in our year. Maybe you can help me with Lily Evans. Hear that, Sirius? I’ve got someone working from the inside this year!” At his words, she looked up to face him and she saw a grey eyed, black haired teenage boy. The tears that had welled up in her eyes from her earlier humiliation threatened to spill upon seeing him. She had to remind herself to breathe, and that this beautiful boy was not the broken man of her own time.

“I doubt that would help much,” the black-haired boy said. “You’re going to have to buy that girl the whole of the library before she even glances in your direction, mate. Sorry, where are my manners? I’m Sirius Black,” he said, before wiping his hand on his robes and extending it.

“I’m Hermione Gardener,” she said, resisting the urge to pull him close and hold him and tell him that everything would be okay now that she was here. It took more willpower than she thought she had. As if sensing something was the matter, he gently squeezed her hand. She smiled up at him in thanks of the gesture before dropping her hand.

She took some time to look at Sirius with the same critical eye she had looked at James, comparing him to the Sirius she knew. The first thing she noticed was that he had a very clear masculine figure in contrast to the skin-and-bones man she knew. His robes, though clearly as expensive as James’s, were not as well kept and she noticed that they had a more Muggle-type slant on their design, with chains incorporated and it was finished with a long leather jacket clearly indicative of the Punk movement of the time. His hair, like James’s, was long and scruffy, but had a sheen to it that made it look almost blue. His style seemed more effortless than that of James, and he was more self-assured than the Sirius of her time.

“Hey Sirius, James, you’ll never guess wh—” the voice from across the street halted, and the three teens turned to see that Peter was approaching with Remus on his heels. He had stopped at seeing Hermione.

“Oh,” he said, clearly taken aback. “I see you’ve already met.” He sounded disappointed and Hermione couldn’t help but feel a little sorrow for the chubby boy –that he had known something they didn’t and his glory was quashed by chance meetings.

“Yeah,” Hermione said dejectedly. “I ought to—” Hermione was cut off by McGonagall calling her name. She looked around to see that her teacher was headed toward the group, bags in hand and hair in minor disarray.

“Hermione, dear, we ought to be going. You said you wanted some underwear and we have to go before the shop closes.” At this, Hermione blushed and started to splutter. As she was attempting to avoid eye contact she met grey eyes that seemed slightly darker than she had seen them only a few minutes before. At this she blushed even harder and tore her gaze from Sirius.

“Yes, well, see you soon then, boys.” Hermione said slightly awkwardly.

“Yeah,” Remus said. “Owl us if you get bored and need some comic relief.” She merely nodded and followed McGonagall to the Leaky Cauldron.

Their shopping trip in the Muggle world was brief but truly essential. Hermione bought three sets of matching underwear plus packs of knickers, two pairs of pyjamas, some socks and some cheap jewellery.

When she returned to her room at Hogwarts that night, she was absolutely exhausted and slipped into her newly purchased pyjamas and fell straight to sleep.

She’s electric.
She’s in a family full of eccentrics.
She’s done things you’ve never expected
And I need more time. – Oasis

She’s Got the Time: Part I
By ThatRomantic

Chapter 3: She’s Electric

After her trip to Diagon Alley, Hermione set about studying for the new school year. She was anxious for lessons to begin and to meet Lily and the Marauders again. It was difficult for her to grasp the fact that she would not be seeing the Harry and Ron she knew and loved for another twenty years, but she tried not to dwell on that too much. The thing she feared was becoming upset and regretting a decision she did not. She wanted this for her, Harry, Ron, their parents, and Sirius.

She was curious to find out what the teachers would be like, now that she was in a generation before her own. She knew that her potions professor would be different – as Snape would be a student in her own year – and she also wondered who the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher would be. She hadn’t met any of the staff beside Albus and Minerva, as they lived on site. She’d seen Hagrid pottering about outside his hut, but hadn’t had enough courage to go and introduce herself.

Soon July thirtieth rolled around and Hermione felt slightly nostalgic; the next day would be Harry’s birthday and she felt the need to do something. With that in mind she wrote a letter to Lily, asking if they could perhaps meet up soon and tied it to Athena, her new owl.

“Wait for a reply before coming back,” Hermione said, stroking her pale feathers before sending her on her way.

It wasn’t until late that night that she got her reply. When she did, she eagerly ripped the envelope open and read it.

Dear Hermione,

It is so good to hear from you, I was hoping I would.

I understand what you are saying when you need a break from studying. I’m sure you find Hogwarts quite restraining at the moment.

I’d love for you to meet us. Does August first sound alright? Only it’s my Dad’s birthday tomorrow and we will be celebrating.

You can come to mine if you want, and if it’s okay with everyone at your end.

Your Friend,

Lily.

Hermione smiled and bounded to Dumbledore’s room to tell him her plans.

---

August first came and Hermione was excited to see Lily. She had been going stir crazy in Hogwarts over the last few days and couldn’t wait for a break from the constantly watchful eyes of both Minerva and Albus. The day before she had plucked up the courage to talk to Hagrid and was happy that she did. He was the pleasantest company in the school, and attentive when she talked to him. She had visited him the previous day to take her mind off of Harry, as she missed him and Ron dearly and couldn’t help but wonder what they would be doing if she had not travelled back in time. They would be at the Burrow, most likely celebrating the only way the Weasleys knew how – loudly and with plenty of food.

When she had talked to Professor Dumbledore the night of receiving Lily’s letter, she had discussed how she was to get to Lily’s family home. They agreed that the best idea was either to Floo to the Evans’s residence or to Apparate to the street. They decided together that Apparition was better, as Flooing into a Muggle home took too much time and effort in regards to the Ministry. Since Hermione did not have an Apparating license, she side-along Apparated with Dumbledore and organised to be collected from the same place at nine.

They landed outside the gate of a house that seemed to be a part of a fairly new estate. Hermione could tell that it had been built in the sixties due to its tasteless ugliness. It had large white-framed windows, unforgiving angles, and a rough exterior. These types of houses always struck her as old looking and, even with the house being not two decades old, she still got the same impression. She walked up the drive and knocked on the door, which swung open to show a short man, with chestnut brown hair, pale skin and green eyes. He was stocky, and his broad shoulders and slight cabbage ears suggested that he was a rugby player. Smiling broadly, he gestured to her to enter the house.

“Come in, come in!” he said in a friendly, deep baritone voice that had a heavy Welsh accent to it. “You must be Hermione! I’m Lily’s Da, Huw Evans.” Hermione smiled at the man. His warm welcome and humble accent made Hermione feel special somehow. “Lily should be with you shortly; hang on. Lily! There you go, would you like a cuppa tea? I’ve just put a pot on.”

“That would be lovely, thank you,” Hermione answered. They made their way into a small kitchen with a breakfast table and four chairs around it. By the small cooker was a tall skinny woman with wavy strawberry blonde hair cascading down her back. Her neck was long and elegant, and she had creamy soft skin that was covered in freckles. Huw Evans coughed to gain the woman’s attention, and she spun around, spatula in hand – looking rather threatening.

“Oh, ‘ello, love!” she said in a broad Northern accent. “You must be Lileh’s mate. I’m Sandra, by the weh. Welcome to t’e moors.”

“Oh,” Hermione said, slightly taken aback. “Okay.” Huw asked how she took her tea once the pot was ready.

“White; no sugar, please.” She took the mug he offered her and cradled it in her hands waiting for Lily. On her second sip, the three of them heard someone bounding down the stairs, and mere seconds later the kitchen door swung open to reveal a smiling Lily.

“Hey, Hermione. Sorry to keep you waiting, I couldn’t tear myself away from my Charms textbook. Don’t you love those lessons?”

“Yes, although I prefer the series of textbooks they use at Beauxbatons, they’re the ones I was taught using. I don’t know what it’ll be like changing from one set of textbooks to another.”

“Hmm. Do you want to come up to my room so we can talk away from these nosey parkers? Ooh is that tea, Dad can you bring me up a mug please?”

“Of course, my darling,” Huw answered, barely looking up from the paper he was reading.

“Thank you. Come on, Hermione, let’s go upstairs.” Lily gestured for Hermione to follow and bounded up the stairs much like she had coming down. The house was pleasantly homely. The walls were all decorated in warm coloured paints and wallpaper, adding to the homely feel. As they were walking to Lily’s room, the last on the left, a tall, snooty looking girl with ash blonde hair passed the girls. Her neck was long like Sandra’s but not as elegant, reminding Hermione very much of E.T.

“Oh, it’s you,” the girl sneered. Lily just seemed to ignore her and walk on.

“That’s my sister,” Lily said as they were walking down the corridor. “Sorry about her. She doesn’t like what I – we are. She was plain vindictive when I first got the letter but it’s now got to the point where she’s just plain ignoring me.”

Hermione thought back to Harry’s stories of the Dursleys and how they treated him. She supposed that Petunia just took her frustration at the situation out on Harry, although, when she thought about it, she realised that Petunia had not been as bad as Harry’s Uncle Vernon. Hermione briefly wondered if Petunia missed her sister after she was killed and if she regretted not being in her life when it happened.

While she was pondering this thought, the two girls reached Lily’s bedroom. As they stepped in, Hermione was instantly shocked at the sight she was faced with. She was not sure what she had been expecting Lily’s room to look like, but she never would have guessed at the sight she saw. The walls, which seemed to have been painted a deep purple with pink flowers stencilled in random places, were covered in posters of punk bands. The main posters were of the Sex Pistols, Johnny Rotten, and The Clash. Other photographs and memorabilia cluttered the walls including vinyl covers, NME features, and concert tickets. What appeared to be a dressing table was cluttered with various magazines and newspaper articles. There was a string of safety pins hanging from the mirror and a bag of make-up open on the surface. The furniture clashed with the punky room with its pale pink and girly themes. Apart from the walls and dressing table, everywhere was tidy. The bed was neat and large, and covered in fluffy pillows.

“Wow.” Hermione said when she finally gained her voice. “Are you a punk?” was the first thing she asked.

“I dabble,” was Lily’s vague answer. “I’m not an all-out ‘let’s cause riots’ punk but I love the music and the rebellion they stand for. I’ve been to a few gigs; I especially enjoy the Sex Pistols.” As she was saying this she pulled her long, red hair back into a ponytail and Hermione noticed piercings running all the way up one ear. She had noticed something dangling from Lily’s ear before and now saw that one of the holes had a safety pin through it. Who would have guessed, Lily Evans-Potter – the Muggle-born brain-box – a punk, Hermione thought. If only Harry could see her now.

“What music do you listen to, then?” Lily asked.

“I like a bit of everything,” Hermione answered, trying to remember what records had come out by 1976. “I like Fleetwood Mac but I like The Clash too.”

“Oh, cool,” Lily replied. “What lessons are you doing this year?”

“Potions, Transfiguration, Charms, Arithmancy, Defence Against the Dark Arts, History of Magic, and Herbology.”

“I love Potions too, although Charms is my favourite subject. We often have Charms with the Ravenclaws and Potions with the Slytherins; I’m in Gryffindor, I hope you will be too. I sit with my roommates Mary and Shannon.”

“What about the boys in your house, do you get on with them?” Hermione remembered Harry mentioning that his Mum hated his Dad when they were in school, up until Seventh Year. Not if I have something to do with it.

“Those idiots? Please. The only decent one in our year is Remus – the one from the book shop – but he can be just as bad as the rest of them.”

“Oh, are you talking about the guy with messy hair and glasses? James, I think?”

“Yeah, how did you know him?”

“I bumped into him at Diagon Alley. He’s kind of cute, and funny.”

“Urgh. Please, he’s arrogant and immature. He’s constantly asking me out, too, which is a pain in the neck.”

“I wouldn’t go that far. There was a boy I used to know who thought the world should worship him and lived off Daddy’s reputation. James didn’t come across like that. He just came across self-confident, not arrogant. He got excited that I was in your year, said I could help him win you over; but I don’t think you’d need much coaxing, Lily. List five good things about him.”

“Well, the most obvious is that he’s very loyal to his friends. He stands up for Peter all the time and stuff like that.”

“Well, that’s good; that means he’d be a faithful boyfriend.”

Lily snorted, but continued none the less, “He’s not prejudiced, when he wants to be anyway, not with the things that matter. I don’t know whether you know, but Sirius Black is one of his friends and he’s constantly getting Howlers for being ‘a disappointment to the Black name.’ Doesn’t help that he’s in Gryffindor – the whole family otherwise have been in Slytherin.”

“Well, that’s good; it means that he won’t back out of a relationship when the going gets tough.”

“If you say so. Sometimes, his practical jokes can be quite funny, especially when they’re aimed at people who aren’t particularly nice to be around. There was the one boy, a couple of years ago, called Lucius Malfoy, and he was a dreadful person. He constantly strutted around the school, hurting the younger years without reason. Anyway, he’d been particularly nasty to this one boy, Harry, I think his name was; who came back to the dorm crying. The next day at lunch, Malfoy’s hair suddenly turned red and gold and he started singing something about Gryffindor being the best. It was obviously the Marauders – that’s what they all call themselves – but none of them got punished because there was no proof.”

“That’s good too; he’ll be able to make you laugh.”

The look on Lily’s face seemed to show that she was struggling. Hermione was not entirely sure whether she was genuinely struggling for reasons that James Potter was a decent bloke or that she was struggling with the fact that she clearly liked him. “He is clearly intelligent, although he would never admit it, because otherwise he would never think up all the pranks he does. Granted, he’s not the only one who does them in the group, but he’s the ringleader, the one that sets the plans into action.”

“That means you’ll never have a dull conversation, you can talk intellectually and he will be able to follow you. What about his looks? Do you find him attractive at all?”

“He has nice shoulders,” Lily said after a pensive silence.

“Shoulders?” Hermione asked. Wasn’t quite expecting that.

“Yeah. They’re broad, the type that you can imagine feeling safe in, the type you want to be able to rest your head against comfortably. A good foundation for a broad chest and strong arms, like you’d be protected, y’know? Manly.”

“Alright, shoulders,” Hermione smirked at a slightly pink Lily, “and that’s five. You didn’t even struggle for that. I was going to say three but changed my mind at the last minute. The way you ranted about his shoulders I would say you’ve been lying to yourself, Lily Evans, and at times, you might even believe the lie.” At this Lily blushed even harder; attempting to hide her face before realising that she’d put her long hair back.

“If you say so,” Lily said, attempting, and failing, to compose herself. “He’s still a stuck up idiot.”

“Ah, but Lily, you just said he’s clever,” Hermione said, looking smug. Lily just poked her tongue out, not having anything to come back with. “Mature, Lily, real mature.”

---

Lily and Hermione continued to talk throughout the morning about everything from school, to music, to the future. Hermione was starting to get truly comfortable with the redhead and was finding she was less and less homesick by the hour. She was glad for the new friend, who was a balance of Harry’s tenderness and wit and Ginny’s fiery passion and enthusiasm. Hermione found herself wondering if this would be what their child would be like, but quickly expelled the thought as soon as it came. She convinced herself that she would find out sooner or later – more likely later, once she thought about it. She drew an overwhelming comfort from Lily’s eyes, reminding her of Harry’s eyes, but there was something in their colour that she had not seen in his. She soon realised that it was a certain innocence and sparkle of childishness that Harry had lost early in his life. There was a happiness that Hermione knew Harry could never have felt. He had been escaping death since his first year; he was an old man in many ways, having faced things in his short lifetime that many have never had to do. Hermione was glad to see that Lily did not weigh herself down with thoughts of a bleak future, but embraced the present, making her eyes seem brighter and glowing.

“What house do you want to be in?” Lily asked, interrupting Hermione’s train of though.

“I’m not sure,” Hermione answered, knowing that she should pretend that she did not already know where she was going to be placed. “I think I have the qualities of a Ravenclaw, but you are on the same intellectual standing as me and you aren’t in that house. I guess Gryffindor would be pretty good; I mean, I already know people in that house, so making friends wouldn’t be that difficult. Hufflepuff and Slytherin seem alright too, though.” She knew she was lying through her teeth to say that she would not mind being a Slytherin, but she had to appear like she did not know much about Hogwarts’ school rivalries.

“Don’t even contemplate Slytherin,” Lily said, seriously. “They’re all the same, prejudiced and narrow minded; all about Voldemort and Pureblood supremacy. I thought, until last year, that they weren’t all like that. I had a friend in the house that I’d known since I was young, but he turned out to be just like all the rest of them. You should join Gryffindor. It’d be good to have another girl in the dorm.”

Hermione was intrigued about Lily’s Slytherin friend, but decided not to press the issue as it seemed to be a tender subject. Instead she asked, “What are your dorm-mates like, then?”

“Well, there’re only three of us, with you it’d be four, and we are all quite close. Mary is the motherly one. If you have a problem, she’s the one to turn to. She will give you advice and she has a really level head on her shoulders. She’s the type of woman you can imagine enjoying having children and being in a close relationship with her husband.

“Shannon is the complete opposite. Where both Mary and I are virgins, she’s... well, she’s not. She’s very body-confident and boy-confident. I lost count a long time ago how many men she’s slept with and how many compromising situations she’s been in. You have to learn how to cover for her when she’s out of her dorms at the weekends, and sometimes during the night. That being said – she’s one of the most genuine people you will ever meet. She’s someone you want at your side when it all goes wrong and she has the biggest heart for someone who could easily not care. I’ve always said that if she were ever to fall in love, it would be with someone she sees regularly, someone willing to be in an open relationship with her. Someone who sees who she is, not the person on the outside.

“Then there’s me and hopefully you. I can imagine you fitting in very well with all of us. Mary will take you under her wing instantly and Shannon will try and corrupt you from day one.” Hermione smiled sadly, she had never really thought that James and Lily would have had friends other than the Marauders. Hearing about the female Gryffindors, she realised she wanted to get to know the girls that Lily shared her Hogwarts years with.

“Sounds like you don’t need me there,” Hermione said, almost regretfully, “you have such a tight knit. There’s a bit of everything in there.”

“No! Hermione, join us. You’ll bring more depth to the group. We can introduce you to ice-cream gossip. Oh, it’s the best. We all sit with a tub of ice-cream and gossip about the boys latest prank, or the new DADA teacher, or which Slytherin we hate the most and why. If you have a choice, come to Gryffindor.”

“Ok,” Hermione smiled.

“Gerls, loonch is on t’e table! Coome get it!” called Sandra from the kitchen. With that, they left to satisfy their appetites.

---

After lunch the girls headed down to Whitby, an historical town in North Yorkshire, where Lily showed Hermione around the town, pointing out certain landmarks of interest. They window-shopped in jewellery shops, Hermione marvelling at the beautiful Whitby Jet, a stone that was very popular during the Victorian era.

While they were walking around town, they came across a tattoo parlour that also did body piercing. As they walked past, Lily’s eyes seemed to light up with a longing and slightly mischievous glint. The look on her face scared Hermione slightly and, just as Hermione was about to move away from the seedy looking shop, Lily grabbed her hand.

“Come on, Hermione, let’s do something that only we have,” Lily suggested. “A tribute to our newfound friendship, if you will.” Hermione simply gave her a look that said, ‘I’m not going in there.’ Lily just tried to stare her down. When Hermione did not yield, Lily frowned and pouted childishly.

“Oh for goodness sakes!” Lily said. “You don’t have to get a tattoo.” At this Hermione relaxed slightly. “Just a small nose piercing,” Lily added. At this Hermione’s eyebrows shot up and she shook her head.

“No. Way. In. Hell.”

“Oh, come on. I was going to get it anyway so we may as well get it together. It won’t hurt. Well, not too much.”

“No way in hell.”

“It’ll be cool and it’ll make a statement.”

“Nowayinhell.”

“Oh, please. You have such a pretty nose.”

Hermione frowned at this statement. Gee thanks. “When I need some cheering up, Lily, I’ll come to you. You’re so good for my ego,” Hermione replied, dryly. “If it’s such a pretty nose, why ruin it with a piercing?”

“Because it will draw attention to it.”

“Why would I want to draw attention to my nose, Lily? If I wanted attention on any of my body parts, I’d rather something a bit sexier than my nose. Like my boobs or my arse.”

Lily lifted one auburn eyebrow, “So you want your nipple pierced?”

Hermione gave a disgusted look. “I think I’d rather have my nose done.”

“It’s settled then,” Lily exclaimed, before dragging a reluctant Hermione through the shop door. She headed straight for the counter. “We’d like our noses done, please,” she explained to the slightly intimidating looking man. Before she could protest, Hermione was sat on what looked worryingly like a doctor’s chair with a cork up her nostril and a needle in her nose. She flinched as the needle went in and was replaced by the nose-ring. The man gave her a bottle of aftercare wash.

“Bathe it two to three times a day,” he said in a gruff Northern accent, “and keep it in for twelve weeks.” Lily gave Hermione thumbs up, before practically skipping to the chair. Hermione later decided that if she did not want it she could have it taken out.

After that, they climbed the 199 steps to the Abbey.

“This is where Dracula was buried, you know?” Lily asked.

“I thought Dracula was from Transylvania.”

“He was, but his coffin was washed up here. Something about a dog in the mist, or something. Stoker used to live here and he got the inspiration when he saw a ship wrecked on the bay. At least, that’s the legend, anyway.”

“Interesting, makes me want to read it now,” Hermione said.

As they walked around the rest of the small fishing town, it grew darker and colder. The last thing they did before heading back to Lily’s was fish and chips with curry sauce on the pier. Lily pointed out The Magpie Cafe.

“Best fish and chips in the world there, apparently. Never been there myself, but I kinda take everyone’s word for it,” Lily said. Hermione enjoyed the fish and chips, bought at one of the may chippies along the front, from newspaper as the wind burned her face, despite it being August. They headed back to the house once they finished and headed straight for Lily’s room.

Before long, nine o’clock had rolled around and Dumbledore knocked on the door to Lily’s house.

“Hello, my dear,” he greeted Hermione, “does that thing through your nose require some rope for me to lead you by?”

Hermione said her goodbyes and promised to write before Dumbledore Apparated them to Hogsmeade and they walked up to the school. As soon as Hermione’s head hit the pillow, she was asleep; nose-ring and all.

You are not alone in this.
And you are not alone in this.
As brothers we will stand
And we’ll hold your hand.
Hold your hand. – Mumford and Sons

She’s Got the Time: Part I
By ThatRomantic

Chapter 4: Timshel

Sirius could not stop thinking about Hermione. Her perfect innocence enticed him, drew him to her aura. When she had seen him she seemed upset about something; there were tears in her eyes when she looked at him and she looked regretful, but there was something else in her eyes, too. Something he could not read. Something that made him squeeze her hand to reassure her. Despite only just meeting her, it felt as though he already knew her, but he did not understand why. Her eyes had been haunting him since he had seen her. They were in his dreams, both sensual and innocent, and also his thoughts, throughout the few days it had been since he had met her.

His thoughts drifted to the question that had niggled at him since he had met her: Will he see her again? He knew he would see her at school, but he didn’t want her to forget about him. He wanted to be someone she knew, really knew. He was afraid to write to her, that would seem desperate, but he wanted to see her before the train ride. He wanted to know her, become friends with her, enjoy her company. Some unexplained force was drawing him to her; the familiarity and yet the mystery.

Suddenly, someone burst through the door.

“Sirius, Sirius! You’ll never guess!” It was James. Sirius had been living at the Potter’s residence since the beginning of the summer. He had spent one night at the family home, 12 Grimmauld Place, listening to his mother’s incessant criticism and brother’s constant coddling and could not take it anymore. He usually stayed at the Potter’s for most of the summer anyway, and decided he wanted to leave for good. He got the Knight Bus to Rufus Cliff and had been living there since.

“No, I don’t think I will guess. Care to tell me?” Sirius asked, looking up at the boy he considered a brother. James looked fit to burst with excitement. Either that or he really needed the loo. Sirius decided that it was the former.

“I’m in!” James exclaimed.

“In what, exactly?”

“Listen to this,” he requested, trying to keep his face straight and the excitement from his voice.

"Dear James,

“I do not know if you remember me, but we met outside the Quidditch shop in Diagon Alley. I’m Hermione, if you have forgotten.

“Anyway, I remember you mentioning your infatuation with one Lily Evans and hoped I could help your cause. I am now very close to Lily, and have been spending most of the month with her. I thought you would like to know that – despite the fact that I have only met you once – I have been putting in a good word for you every now and then. I have noticed that she has been warming up to the idea of you as something other than (and I quote) ‘a boneheaded monkey, who laughs at his own jokes.’

“I was hoping that you would not mind if I invited myself (and Lily) to your house tomorrow. She will be with me at school anyway, and I thought you would like to meet her with her new understanding of you.

“All I ask you to do is to be yourself. Do not try to show off for her sakes, and try to show her a James Potter that she does not know and will learn to like – a new depth to yourself.

“Owl me if the plan is good for you, or if you want me to come over another time,

“Hermione.

“See, Sirius! The girl’s a genius! She’s got Lily Evans to consider me likeable!”
“What are you going to say, then?” asked Sirius, hoping the hopefulness in his voice was not too obvious.

“Yes, of course! We have to get Rem and Pete over too. Make a day of it.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

---

Sirius had never been so nervous or excited in his life. He would see her again, face to face. He tried to keep the smile from his face but he was failing somewhat. He was made even more nervous by watching the boy he regarded as a brother pace in front of him. The two boys were in the Potters’ first reception room. They had specifically asked James’s Mum to use that room, as they found it the most welcoming.

It was decorated richly, but not distastefully, with reds and golds. It was affectionately known as the Gryffindor Room, as it reflected the family’s heritage. Like in Grimmauld Place, there was a tapestry of the family tree adorning the wall. Beneath the roots of the tree was the name ‘Peverell’ in a medieval script. The Potters could trace their family tree back further than the Blacks could, it seemed. Where the Blacks’ tree was green, this tapestry was a rich burgundy. The tree itself was gold, with accents of other shades of red. The names were stitched boldly in gold, too, and outlined in black.

The furniture in the room was the same burgundy as the tapestry that covered the room, with gold finishes and the carpet was a golden yellow. A large, lavishly decorated fireplace was in the middle of the wall opposite the trunk of the family tree. This was where James was currently pacing.

“James, relax,” Sirius said. “You’re making me dizzy.”

“Don’t look, then, Padfoot! Where are they?”

“Who –” Before Sirius could finish his sentence, the fireplace glowed green and a tall, sandy haired boy with patched-up clothes fell out of the grate.

“Finally!” James exclaimed. “It took you long enough. Where’s Pete?”

“Hello, to you too, James,” said the boy.

“Sorry, Remus, but, you know, Lily Evans is coming over.”

“I’m aware of that, I believe that is the reason I’m here in the first place. To answer your question, I don’t know where Peter is, he said something about a cousin and alcohol,” Remus said, seating himself in one of the large, plush armchairs by the fire.

“Oh, yeah,” Sirius said from the sofa he was lounging on. “Enid’s going to be the DADA teacher this year. They must have been celebrating her getting the position.” Just then, a chubby boy with a sprouting of honey golden hair fell out of the fireplace holding his head.

“Rough night, Pete?” Sirius asked.

“Stop shouting,” Peter mumbled, to which the other occupants sniggered. He was holding his head and flumped onto the nearest comfortable area.

“If you go find my Mum she’ll have some hangover potion,” James said. “Be quick about it!” he added, clearly impatient to start discussing what he was going to do to win Lily’s affections.

“No need, James, darling,” a sweet, slightly aged voice came from the doorway. “I knew that there was a party last night, your mother wrote, dear,” the elderly woman said to the astonished look on the chubby boy’s face. “Anyway, I thought you may need some of this,” she said, holding up a purple bottle. “I also brought some Earl Grey and biscuits through for you boys.” Peter got up slowly, still holding his head and approached the woman, dragging his feet.

“Thanks, Vivian,” Peter said, taking the bottle from the woman’s wrinkled hands.

“Yeah, cheers, Mum,” Sirius said. He had called her thus since he was twelve, on his first summer visit. Her grey tight bun and warm but stern hazel eyes were more motherly than his mother’s own ice-blue stare. Vivian smiled at Sirius before leaving the room. Peter held his nose, and drained the bottle of potion before returning to sit opposite Remus in the other armchair, while James still paced.
“James,” Remus said in his calm, melodic voice. “Sit down and we’ll all talk.” This seemed to make James’s nervousness subside somewhat, and he took a seat next to Sirius on the sofa.

“So,” Pete started, sounding considerably more awake than before. “What’s the plan? Subtle hints at your skills in Quidditch?” Before James could answer Remus spoke up.

“No, I don’t think we really need a plan for this one.”

“What do you mean?” James asked, sounding outraged. “Of course we do! How else am I going to win her over?”

“I think that’s the point,” Sirius said, after seeing the exasperated expression on Remus’s face. James looked at him like he had gone mad.

“I think what Padfoot is trying to say is that this girl – Hermione, right? – has seemed to work wonders to get you in Lily’s favour. From what I heard, she didn’t take a lot of convincing.”

“Yeah, Prongs, Moony’s right, mate. Hermione told you to be yourself in the letter,” Sirius said. “Think about it this way,” he added when he saw his friend looking at him like he had just told him Quidditch is just a game. “You like her for her, right? A hot-headed clever witch with a little too much to say?” At this James nodded, despite the scowl on his face. “Well, you want her to like you for you too, right? Not some glorified or exaggerated version of you?” Again James nodded. “Then be yourself. We like you, and if she still doesn’t think you’re worth her time then she’s not worth yours.” After his mini speech, James seemed to calm down a bit. The boy, who had previously been looking at his hand and jogging his leg in a nervous way, looked up at Sirius and smiled.
“Thanks, mate. You guys are the best!”

“Hey, no chick flick moments,” Sirius said in a gruff voice. At this Remus and Peter smiled. They both understood that James and Sirius were closer than the brotherly bond all four of them had. They also knew not to feel excluded from or jealous of the bond, as the two dark haired boys were each other’s crutch. James was the first Sirius told about his family problems; Sirius was the first one that knew about James’s Dad dying at the age of sixty in their fourth year from a stroke, and James the first person Sirius went to for shelter this past summer when he had moved out. That being said, neither boy particularly enjoyed sharing their sentimental moments with Remus and Peter.

“So, the plan is, there is no plan?” Peter asked.

Remus smiled. “Yes,” he said. “Okay, what was the other thing you needed to talk about?”

“Oh,” James said, flicking his eyes over to Sirius. “I’ll tell you later, mate.” Remus gave James a questioning look at this; it was a widely known fact that James and Sirius kept nothing from each other. Sirius, on the other hand, was confused by the question. What else was there to talk about?

“Okay then,” Remus said cautiously. Just then, Vivian Potter came in.

“I’m doing you a fresh pot of tea for when your little friends arrive,” she said, to which James turned red. “You boys eat up; you need more flesh on those bones!”

---

The boys whiled away the few hours until the girls arrived plotting their first prank of the year. They had decided on something fantastic. It was tradition with the Marauders, since their return for second year, to make an entrance – upping their game each year. This would be fantastic – where next year would be spectacular. Remus was generally the brains, Peter the organiser, and Sirius and James were the executors. At eleven o’clock on the dot, the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it!” yelled Mrs Potter. The boys had decided that, although there would be no plan for James to impress Lily, as such, he should start with a better image than she was used to. They all took their seats on the crimson suite and waited for the matriarch to lead the girls into the room. Sirius and James picked up their tea cups delicately – as planned. Peter sniggered, watching them act dainty, and wished he had a camera for blackmail later. Just as they were sipping the tea the door clicked and the boys looked up. Simultaneously, Sirius spit his mouthful of tea out in disbelief; while James choked on the mouthful he had tried to swallow and gaped at the girls.

“Wow,” Peter said, in a dazed awe. “What are those things?”

“Nose rings,” Hermione replied, waving it off as nothing.

“You’ve corrupted Evans, you are officially my idol,” Sirius said in a similar tone to Pete.

“Actually, it’s Lily that did the corrupting, she practically dragged me into the shop,” the curly haired brunette said.

“It was either that or your nipple, Mi,” Lily responded, evenly. At this, James, who had not quite recovered from his original coughing fit, seemed to heave for breath, he was coughing so hard. The girls seemed to be smirking to themselves a little at this. When James did not stop, a flicker of something passed over her emerald eyes. She approached him cautiously and patted him gently on the back.

“There, there, Potter,” she said. “She didn’t actually get her nipple pierced. No need to get in a tizz about it.” This seemed to calm the boy down a little, although, Sirius was not sure whether it was what she was saying or the fact that she was voluntarily touching him that did the trick. Sirius smiled. Hermione really has worked some magic, he thought. Once he recovered, she moved away. “Where are we sitting then?”

“Oh,” James said, in a slightly hoarser voice than usual. “Erm, hang on,” with that he stumbled from his place on the sofa and tapped a desk nearby. It turned into a comfortable looking sofa with the same colour scheme as the rest of the room. “For visitors,” he explained.

“So, boys,” Hermione started. “How have your summers been?”

“Eventful,” Remus replied. “So, are you guys close now, then?”

“Yeah,” Lily answered. “Since the beginning of the month we’ve seen each other almost constantly. In and out of each other’s houses, like. Although, technically Hermione doesn’t live in a house.”

At this, Hermione laughed. Merlin, her laugh is gorgeous, Sirius thought. “Lily’s helped me through some rough times recently and it’s been good to have a friend.” Lily smiled at the girl with a sense of pride in her face. “Plus, it’s been brilliant having someone to gossip with,” Hermione added smiling. “I’m not used to being around girls and it was a nice change.”

“What do you mean by that?” Sirius asked, a feeling he was not prepared to admit to in his stomach.

“Well, where I lived, most of my friends were boys. I only had one girlfriend that I was really close to.”

“Why’s that? Do you not like girls?” Peter asked.

“No, it’s not that. I just... I suppose boys are simpler to get on with than girls.”

“Hey,” Remus said, looking at Sirius. “Are you alright, mate? You look like you’ve got something in your eye.” It was only then that Sirius realised that his irrational anger was making itself apparent. He also cursed Moony for being so observant.

“What have you boys been doing, then?” Lily asked. “Not planning a stupid prank I hope,” she added, sounding rather pompous.

“And if we have?” Sirius asked.

“Will you boys ever grow up?”

“I dunno, Lils. It’s always good to have a little laughter in our lives, right? I mean, you said that yourself, the first time I went to yours,” Hermione said, leaving Lily to blush lightly. Sirius, Remus, and Peter all exchanged smirks at the elated expression on James’s face.

“So, Hermione, tell us about yourself... We’re rather intrigued in your story, I’m afraid,” said Remus, saving Evans from her embarrassment.

“Oh, well, as you know I’m living at Hogwarts as Albus’s ward. He and my Father were very close – especially after my Mum died. To be fair, I’m tired of telling my story. Tell me about yourselves. I’ve got an overview from Lily, but I get the impression she’s a little biased,” Hermione said, looking over at an even more crimson Lily.

“Well, where to start? We are the Marauders; professional pranksters and fun-bringers to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I’m James Potter, Quidditch Extraordinaire, I like to think of myself as the best looking of the group – but don’t we all?”

“Yeah. Plus, I enjoy being young, free and single. He doesn’t,” Sirius commented.

“Pete and I just enjoy being young.”

“You can say that again, Remus. How is your lover, anyhow?” Peter asked.

“She’s not a lover, she’s a friend,” Remus growled.

“Oh, I can’t wait to see the girls again,” Lily said, seemingly over her embarrassment and now almost completely ignoring James. “You’re going to love them!”

“So you keep telling me,” Hermione said in a slightly bored voice
“What house do you want to be in?” Peter asked Hermione.

“I’ve been told I have to be in Gryffindor by Lily, I don’t think she’d forgive me if I was anywhere else.”

“You’re right, I wouldn’t,” Lily deadpanned.

“What if I end up somewhere else, what would you do then?”

“I think I’d probably have to kill you.” The look on Evans’s face was so serious that Sirius almost believed her. “Unless you were a Ravenclaw,” she added pensively. “Then I’d just have to consider you an academic rival and watch you burn.”

“It’s nice to know I’m valued as a friend.”

---

The time passed and they continued with their slightly stinted conversation with the girls. What Sirius did notice, was that Hermione seemed to create situations that meant that James and Lily were together. She also seemed to be subtly hinting that Lily liked James in the same way he liked her, and when Lily went to deny it she could not keep the blush from her cheeks. Whenever she did this, James would grin like an idiot for at least ten minutes afterward. At lunch, Hermione seemed to make sure that the pair sat across from each other. So they have to keep looking at each other, Sirius thought. What surprised him the most was that it seemed to work – to an extent. They talked about Lily’s seemingly Punk-like attitude and James’s part in the pranks the boys pulled. Both seemed to impress the other, and Sirius could not help thinking that the new girl was going to have a bigger impact on each of their lives than he originally thought.

Lunch went smoothly, and by smoothly that meant that there was not the customary food fight that took place when the Marauders gathered at the Potter Manor. This may have been because they had company, but Sirius thought it was most likely that they had Lily Evans for company and that James was too preoccupied to start it, as he usually did.

After lunch they made their way back to the Gryffindor Room and took their seats. Again, it was set up by Hermione so that the couple were sat next to each other. Lily sent her friend a pleading look while the other girl simply smiled.

Still looking a little distressed, Lily went to sit down. Suddenly, out of seemingly nowhere water cascaded onto her head like a water fall.

“Ergh!” Lily yelped before she turned to the boy next to her with an accusing scowl on her face. James went pale at seeing this and was about to answer when a childish giggle came from above, at this James seemed to turn beet red with anger.
“Harry!” At hearing the name, Hermione choked on her tea, before looking around frantically with worry on her face. When she had noticed the rest of the group were looking up, Sirius saw that she exhaled in what seemed like relief.

“I got the girly! Icky, icky girly!” Chanted the culprit. Harry Lucas Potter. The Rufus Cliff’s poltergeist.

“Harry! I told you today, time and time again, no pranks!” James exclaimed.

“Oh, come on, little brother! It’s fun!”

“Not today, it’s not.”

“But girls are here. Girls are nasty. They have fleas!” At this statement James got angrier, and the two girls looked scandalised. Rightly, thought Sirius.

“Girls do not have fleas. Harry, go, please? When I’m done we can plan some pranks but I’m with my friends.” At this, the ghost blew a raspberry and floated through the ceiling.

“Who was that?” Lily asked a look of indignation on her face.

“That would be my older brother,” James said, exasperatedly.

“Older?” Hermione asked.

“Yes, he died when I was four, he was six. Dad used to have a potions lab on the East Wing; he died in an explosion while Mum and Dad were out with me at the park. We were all devastated, and I refused to go to the park again. We buried him in the Peverell plot in the local graveyard. Two days later, he appeared as a ghost. He was always up to mischief. Taught me the best tricks in the book, so he’s more of a poltergeist.” The tone in which James told this was almost one of admiration. He then turned to Lily with worry on his face, “I’m sorry that this happened, I told him not to bother us. Are you okay?”

Lily looked at him and smiled, “I’m fine, soaking wet, but fine.”

“Do you... do you want to borrow some clothes? You can use some of my old stuff that’s too small if you want,” James asked, hesitantly.

“Okay,” Lily said, blushing again.

“Follow me,” James instructed, holding out his hand for her to take once he had stood. She took it in what looked like a decisive move and they left the room. Once they had left, all the remaining boys turned to Hermione with wide eyes.
“You’re –” Peter began.

“– a –” Remus continued.

“– genius!” Sirius finished. Hermione just smirked. “How did you do that?”

“Do what?” she asked, a little too innocently.

“Okay, maybe you don’t know, but if James had asked if she wanted to borrow his clothes at the beginning of the summer, she would have told him where to put his clothes,” Pete said, to which the other two simply nodded.

“Oh, that. It didn’t take much. She liked him last year probably, but she was in denial for some reason. I just coaxed it out of her a little bit.”

“You are my hero,” Peter said.

“Erm... Thanks,” she answered with a slightly disturbed look on her face. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Lily and James walked back in, and although they were not holding hands this time, James had a look of prideful possession on his face. Lily was wearing what looked like James’s sleepwear, and seemed to be positively drowning in it. She also had a scowl etched on her previously smiling face.

At Hermione’s questioning look she said “He doesn’t own Muggle casual clothes at all, so this was the best he could come up with. I refused to wear robes.” She then humphed and flopped back on the sofa she had been sat on. James sat down next to her tentatively, but her frown simply deepened.

---

The rest of the day was not nearly as comfortable as it had been at the start. Lily was still being cold toward James about what Harry had done, and the situation simply made it more uncomfortable for the rest of the group. This created some tension, since the main purpose of the girls’ visit was that James and Lily would make progress in their relationship. It got worse at points when Hermione would say something to try and encourage their relationship, only to have them end up in a spat. It was made painful when Peter tried to break the ice with a joke that ended up being slightly tasteless and awkward.

In the end, it got so uncomfortable that the girls went back to Hogwarts early.
“Lily, why don’t you go through first, I’ll catch up with you later,” Hermione encouraged. Lily seemed only too happy to oblige and, with one last sour look to James, shouted for Hermione’s quarters.

Once she was gone, Hermione turned to James with an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry, James,” she said softly. “I thought this would be a good idea. What happened up there? Don’t tell me, I’ll talk to Lily about it. I will, I promise. I know it’s hard to believe right now, but she does like you. Probably has done for a while.”
“Thanks,” James said, in a slightly broken voice. “It was nice to see her anyway. For her to like me for a few hours is progress, right?” It was the most he had said since re-entering the room.

Hermione smiled again. “Yeah. Think positive. If it were up to me, I’d have you together by Christmas, but I can’t do all the work. I’m not saying you’re not trying, just bear in mind that you want her to want you, not the idea of you.” James nodded.

“Bye, boys,” Hermione said to the rest of them, a beaming smile splitting her face once more. “It was good to see you all again.” She then walked up to each of them and embraced them amicably. She whispered something in Pete’s ear and he went wide eyed, before giving a small abrupt nod. “Don’t lose hope, James,” she said before vanishing through the grate.

After she left, the boys sat around and talked about the day, each telling James the same thing Hermione had. At this, he looked up at the group with a worried expression on his face.

“I don’t know, guys,” he said, defeated. “I think I blew it once and for all.”
“What happened up there, Prongs?” Peter asked.

“Oh, god, it was awful,” James moaned. “It went fine until we got to the second floor landing. Harry was there and he kept making fun of Lily. He shouted stuff like, ‘Icky girly with ugly hair’ and ‘What’s that stupid thing through your nose?’ but at that point we were still holding hands.”

“That’s a good sign,” Sirius encouraged. “She wasn’t affected by Harry.”

“Yeah, I suppose. That’s not nearly the worst part though. I let her use the bathroom off my room; I thought she’d be more comfortable in there, while I looked for something for her to wear. I told her there were towels on the rack and to get dry and I’d have something for her when she was finished. Then she yelled that there were only hand towels, so I told her to use my dressing gown on the back of the door. She came out after that and it was way too big, so it kept falling open at the top. I swear I didn’t look.” At this point, Peter sniggered a little, Remus looked reproachful and Sirius was guessing what could come next. “Anyway, I had some robes out on the bed for her, but she complained that they were all too big and that they would look silly on her anyway. Then she turns to me and says, ‘You think this is funny, don’t you?’ I said, ‘What?’ She said, ‘You told your brother to get me wet so you could see me in my underwear.’” At this Sirius could not help but hate Lily, just a little. It was clear that James was trying to be a gentleman and she was trying to find faults in him. Then he realised it was probably her way of denying her feelings for James. That did not justify the accusation, though. Poor James, Sirius thought.

“Apparently I paused too long at that point, she asked for the pyjamas on my bed and stomped into the bathroom to change,” he finished glumly.

“Don’t worry, James,” Remus said. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Yeah, she just has a lot to sort through in her head. She’s probably confused, no one’s forced her to analyse her feelings for you before Hermione. She’ll come around,” Peter said.

“You heard Hermione, she reckons you’ll be together by Christmas,” Sirius added.

“She’s certainly determined as far as the two of you are concerned,” Remus chuckled. They then started to talk about what they thought of her, agreeing that she was someone they liked and would like to know better.

“She’s pretty too,” Peter said, in the innocent way he had. Sirius scowled at this and James threw a glance his way that Sirius could not decipher.

They decided that Remus and Peter would be better staying over, as it was getting late. Hours later, Sirius was still wide awake, listening to Remus’s snoring, Wormtail’s squeaking, and James talk about evil frogs eating Lilies. He could not sleep and kept thinking about Hermione. She was really something else, he thought. To try and get himself back to sleep, he started to wonder around the house. He ended up back in the Gryffindor Room. He sighed and flopped into one of the armchairs, when he noticed a girl’s coat scrunched into the sofa. He walked over and picked it up. He debated with himself whether to leave it until the morning before dropping it back, when he decided that it would not take long and he would not be disturbing them if he just Flooed it over and came straight back. He also, secretly, wanted to see Hermione again. With his mind set, he went over to the fire place, threw some Floo Powder into the grate, stepped in and shouted, “Hermione Gardener’s quarters, Hogwarts castle!”

After a long, dizzying journey he landed in a fireplace. The room looked similar to the Gryffindor common room, but smaller and decorated in purples and creams, rather than reds and golds. There were two doors next to the fireplace, one on either side, that he assumed led to the bathroom and bedroom. He opened one, hoping it was the bedroom. It was. However, the door creaked as he opened it, so his quiet escapades were all in vain. He peered around the door to the bed and what he saw shocked him. There on the bed, was Hermione, curled into a ball, her chocolate corkscrew ringlets splayed on her pillow around her head. However, she was not alone. Holding her was the redhead girl in night clothes and James’s tee shirt, smiling contentedly in her sleep. Sirius looked away, before opening the door a little more to enter the room. The door groaned again and he looked to the ceiling, praying that he was not heard. Slowly and carefully, he made his way over to the desk, placing the coat on the desk chair. Just as he was creeping back to the door, he heard a groan from the bed. Shocked, he looked over to see Hermione stirring. Not caring for how much sound he made he dashed for the door, into the common room.

“Sirius,” said a groggy voice from the door he had just left. He looked over, Floo Powder in hand, to see a sleepy Hermione rubbing her eyes and frowning. “What are you doing here?”

“I was just returning your coat,” he said meekly.

“At... two in the morning?”

“Sorry.” There was a pause, he wanted to ask, but was too afraid to. In the end he decided he had to, otherwise his curiosity would never be satisfied. “Why was Lily in the same bed as you?”

She looked at him with a calculating expression, before speaking. “I get nightmares. Especially since I moved here. Lily helped me through them the first night she stayed here. She just hugged me until they subsided. We’ve been sleeping in the same bed ever since. I can’t sleep a full night without someone holding me.” At that moment all Sirius wanted to say was Let it be me to hold you through the night but decided that would be totally inappropriate and that she would think him strange.

Instead he said, “If you ever need to talk, I’ll listen.” She nodded and said her thanks. With that, she turned back to her room and closed the door behind her. Sirius took that as his cue to leave, and Flooed back to the Potter Manor. That night he fell asleep dreaming about the girl he was thinking of when he woke up.