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10:45 am
Harry was walking along the corridor after his first-morning class, when a hand shot out of one of the alcoves and yanked him in. His wand was coming up when he met mischievous brown eyes.
“Hermione?” He asked confused, staring into her happy face.
Harry was sure he had left Hermione still debating one of the lesson points with the professor. He was very familiar with that arguing tone Hermione had been using. Harry had thought she was going to be there awhile until her point was driven home.
But now here she was, pushing him back against the wall. Harry backed up obligingly, not really understanding what Hermione was about. Her face came close to his, and Harry noticed for the first time the lighter flecks of gold almost hidden in Hermione’s dark brown eyes.
Then her eyes closed, and she pressed her lips to his sweetly. The press of her lips lightened for just a moment as she whispered softly, “I just needed my morning kiss.” Then she leaned forward again, her lips pressing chastely to his, the palms of her hands resting on his chest as his heartbeat picked up.
Harry’s eyes remained wide open, frozen as his best friend kissed him. What the bloody hell was happening? What was—
Hermione’s hands, which rested high on his chest, stroked slowly downward, and the tip of her tongue ran along the seam of his lips. Tingles ran through his entire body and obliterated all his brain cells.
Harry relaxed back against the wall as Hermione Jean Granger gave him the sweetest kiss of his young life. When she slowly pulled back, he had to force himself not to grab her and pull her close again.
“Hermione–” Harry started, his voice thick and eyes wide.
Hermione pressed a finger against his lips, her eyes gleaming with desire. “Shhh. I know we shouldn’t until later, but I couldn’t wait.” She gave him a slow smile before stepping away from him and out into the corridor.
Harry remained frozen, leaning against the wall for a long moment before darting out after her, determined to get an explanation. He almost ran down the large corridor, his face swiveling to and fro as he tried to spot her bushy hair. How had she disappeared so fast?
Harry arrived at his next class out of sorts and at the last minute, but there, seated in her usual spot, was Hermione. She didn’t look up at him as he came into the class and he rushed forward, putting his books down.
“What was that about!” He hissed at her, his lips still tingling from her kiss.
Hermione looked up with an annoyed expression. “I just wanted Professor Vector to know those calculations were incorrect. It was just up to the millionth place, but that could definitely impact—”
Harry stared at her as Hermione continued on her lecture about how important exacting calculations were and that rounding errors were rampant throughout the book and she didn’t know why the professor had chosen it. In short, she behaved very Hermione-like. The normal Hermione-like.
Not the Hermione who looked at him with teasing eyes and made all his thoughts disappear.
Then Hermione stopped her lecture, shaking her head and laughed, leaning close to him with a smile. “Sorry, you know I can’t help it sometimes.”
Harry spotted the gleaming gold flecks in her smiling eyes and couldn’t stop staring at her even when class began and Hermione reached over to poke his side to try to get him to pay attention.
12:00 PM
When class let out for lunch, everyone stampeded out, but Harry followed along much more slowly. His head still whirling with what had happened that morning. All throughout class Hermione had behaved absolutely normally, and he couldn’t bring himself to ask her the mental-sounding question of: Did you, by any chance, kiss me earlier?
Neville, sensitive as always to others moods, lingered behind with Harry as the crowd of Gryffindors were ahead of them in the corridor. Ron and Hermione were near the front of the lunch rush. Hermione because she wanted to sit down and do some reading during lunch and Ron because he was hungry.
“Everything okay, Harry?” Neville asked him quietly. “You seem a bit out of sorts.”
“Yeah.” Harry shook his head. He definitely wasn’t telling Neville anything. It just didn’t make sense that Hermione would kiss him. Maybe the whole thing had been a figment of his imagination?
“Yeah.” He repeated. “I’m just going to the loo first. I’ll catch up with you guys at lunch.” Harry waved off Neville and turned left on the first floor to start walking to the boys' bathroom. He just needed to splash some water on his face. That had been a weird daydream to have about Hermione.
Harry’s footsteps slowed though as a strangled yell caught his attention. He cocked his head, listening intently. The sound came again—fainter this time. His first thought was that one of the Slytherins was bullying someone. They could be bastards at times. Harry burst into the broken girl's restroom (really, he had too much experience with this bathroom) and froze at the strange sight that met him.
Hermione was standing in the middle of the girls' bathroom, her shoulders relaxed, a slight smirk on her face with her wand raised, pointing at a twisted Draco Malfoy floating in the air. Malfoy’s arms and legs were bent at odd angles and his teeth were gritted as he obviously tried to refrain from yelling at the pain of the position.
“Harry Potter!” Moaning Myrtle yelled, floating over to him. “Stop her! She’s gone crazy! She’s hurting my Draco!”
This Hermione had hair in a thick braid all the way down her back to her waist. Her robes were different too, not a wrinkle in sight and something about the shape of her robes seemed to emphasize her feminine figure. Hermione had a very feminine figure.
Despite Moaning Myrtle's panicked yells and Draco’s muffled groans, that thought briefly sidetracked Harry. Then he shook his head. She was Hermione again, but everything about her was wrong.
His Hermione had shorter hair, and because appearance was low on her list of concerns always had a bit of wrinkled clothing. And of course, the obvious, his Hermione wouldn’t be bloody hurting someone like this. Even Malfoy.
This strange Hermione glanced back at him, her smile widening. “Harry! I was just looking for you. But I found Malfoy instead, and for some odd reason, he tried to be rude to me.”
Hermione laughed just as she had earlier in class with him, when she had stopped lecturing about the decimal errors in Arithmancy. Hermione’s wand moving slightly, causing Maloy’s arms to twist tighter around his back and he gave another strangled yell. “You — you rubbish mud—”
“Uh uh, Malfoy. I know it’s very hard for you to make logical leaps, but think about what is going to happen to you—and your wand arm, if you keep speaking. Actions have consequences.” Hermione chided in her best lecturing voice.
“Let him down.” Harry finally managed to tell the fake Hermione.
Hermione gave him a confused look before it cleared up, and she winked at him. “Good idea Harry.”
She waved her wand and then brought it abruptly down. Malfoy spun in the air wildly before he went face-first into one of the broken stalls overflowing toilets.
Harry grabbed the fake Hermione and yanked her out of the bathroom before Malfoy could do more than fall backward on his arse out of the toilet sputtering. Hermione followed along with him as he ducked into an empty classroom and slammed the door shut. Harry faced the fake Hermione, his wand raising between them as she quirked an eyebrow at him.
“Whatever are you doing, Harry?”
“Who are you?” Could he really cast at her? Even if she was some crazy fake Hermione? A large part of him fiercely resisted the idea of a serious magical duel between him and Hermione but Harry didn’t drop his wand.
Her brows knit as she looked at him. “I’m your best friend. What the bloody hell is wrong with you? And — and what is that thing on your forehead?”
Hermione came closer, and he froze, not able to take action to fend her off as her hand rose to gently touch his forehead. Hermione would never hurt him—and the way she smiled at him, the way she moved—somehow she was still Hermione. “Who did this to you?” Her voice was dangerously low.
“Hermione—I mean—you know—” Harry tried to make a coherent sentence form, but it was hard with her this close. Rage gleamed in her pretty features as she stared at his scar.
“I don’t know what is happening.” She said in an angry voice. “First, that idiot Malfoy thinks he can break the rules and try to bully me. I’m a bloody prefect! I set the rules of behavior. And then you’re acting all strange and SOMEONE HAS HURT YOU. WHO IS IT!”
“Voldemort!” Harry blurted at her demand.
“What a dumb name for an obviously dumb person if they think they can hurt my Harry!” Hermione whipped about, her braid flying as she stormed from the empty classroom.
“Wait!” Harry darted after, catching the door before it closed and running into the corridor. He didn’t know who this Hermione was—but he wasn’t sure of what she might do either. Harry ran a few steps before stopping. He couldn’t hear anything. The corridor was absolutely silent. No fading footsteps, no muttering Hermione stomping down the stone walkway.
Would she have gone to the Great Hall? Harry ran in that direction, bursting through the double doors to see pandemonium. Everyone was staring at a dripping, red-faced Draco Malfoy who was pointing at a white-faced Hermione.
“She assaulted me!” Malfoy screamed, pointing at Hermione, who looked unnerved at all the attention. Malfoy’s hair and shoulders were still wet from the toilet, and he was cradling his left arm.
All the Gryffindors were sitting and looking at Malfoy like he was absolutely bonkers. Finally, Ron piped up, “Uh Malfoy, Hermione has been here with us the whole lunch…”
“You liars! She dragged me into that hideous bathroom and just left me there—”
“Mr. Malfoy.” Professor McGonagall cut him off. “When exactly did this happen?”
“Right now — just now–they’re lying she - she braided her hair and acted like a bitch—”
“Mr. Malfoy! Language. Miss Granger has been here the entire time, and I have observed her from my seat—furthermore, for your language, you have detention!”
Malfoy’s mouth gaped as he turned a purple color in rage. “My father will hear about this!” He screamed as he stormed to the Slytherin table where Pansy Parkinson started casting cleaning and drying charms at him while he sulked.
Harry quickly made his way to the table, scooting awkwardly between his two best friends as they gave him weird looks and scooted away from each other to make a space between them.
“You almost missed it, mate. Malfoy came in ranting and raving—just absolutely bonkers—must be all that inbreeding, you know.” Ron whispered, still awed by the spectacle.
Hermione, a bit more observant, land her hand on Harry’s forearm. He flinched away at first and then grabbed her hand firmly. This was his Hermione. He was keeping her close.
“Harry, are you okay?”
“No, something is happening, and I have no bloody idea of what it is, but you are definitely involved.”
1:45 pm
“I did what?” Hermione was tomato red, staring at Harry.
Harry felt like the collar of his robe was too tight, but kept from tugging at it as he faced his two best friends. “After Arithmancy I was walking to our next class, and then you grabbed me and pulled me into one of those little –you know with the benches in the hallways? And–er, you kissed me and said you couldn’t wait until later.”
Ron had an irritated expression staring between the both of them. “I knew it. I don’t know why you two didn’t just admit it to me—”
“But–” Harry and Hermione both started.
Ron shook his head at them, cutting them off. “I don’t care whatever, get on with it then Harry, what happened next?”
“Well, it was weird. I went to our next class and Hermione was there but she was normal Hermione–she didn’t um–” He cut off tugging at his robe despite himself. “She didn’t look like she wanted to snog me.”
Harry looked over at Hermione and realized she was staring contemplatively at his lips. Warmth rushed through him and he realized he was blushing just as hard as she was, while Ron’s eyes tried to roll back into his head.
“So then it was this other Hermione who attacked Malfoy?” Hermione questioned.
Harry shook his head. “That’s the weird thing, though. The Hermione who kissed me looked like you–um your hair and stuff. But the Hermione who attacked Draco had longer hair and wore it in a braid and she was um — very strangely mad about my scar– that um someone had hurt me.”
Ron huffed. “That definitely sounds like Hermione.”
“I would never—”
Ron held up a finger. “You set Snape’s robes on fire during first year because you thought he was jinxing Harry’s broom–”
“That was completely different. There are rules—well, not rules, but I’m certain somewhere it’s written that you cannot harm students!” Hermione finished a touch righteously.
Harry stared at her. How strange for his Hermione to voice something similar to the imposter Hermione—she had been fixated on Malfoy breaking the rules too. But of course, his Hermione was different from those other ones.
“Oh yeah, what about that time you put Skeeter in the bug jar because of what she wrote about Harry?” Ron asked her sarcastically.
“She was writing stuff about me too, Ronald.” Hermione snapped at him.
Ron threw up his hands. “Fine! I don’t know why you two don’t admit it. I mean, I asked you and you both say no and then you behave like that and it’s confusing!”
“Admit what?” Harry asked, looking between Ron and Hermione’s angry faces thoroughly confused as to how the conversation got so off track.
“That you two like each other!” Ron bellowed, then stormed off.
Harry and Hermione stared after him with their mouths open.
“Well, he’s wrong.” Hermione said, looking at Harry. The afternoon sunlight streamed into the window from behind them, highlighting her brown curls and making those maddening gold flecks in her eyes glimmer.
“Yeah. Of course.” Harry agreed. They sat there in silence for a minute, both of them thinking.
Hermione reached out, taking his hand, her fingers sliding along his skin, making his breath catch. “Harry.”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t worry.” She squeezed. “I’m here. We’ll figure it out okay? Maybe we should head to the library after class to do some research. Or I suppose we can talk to Dumbledore or McGonagall too-”
“No, it would just be one more crazy thing about me. I already told them about hearing Voldemort in my head—no way do I want them thinking I’ve gone mental thinking that there are multiple Hermiones running around.”
“I guess I am a bit much—even a fake me,” Hermione muttered, looking down at their joined hands.
Harry covered her hand with his other one, tightening his grip so that she looked at him. “I like you being you, and it scares me to even think I might lose you. You’re my best friend.”
Hermione blushed again, but she smiled at him. “I’d never leave you. We’re in this together, right? We’ll meet after our last class, go to the library and see what we can find, okay?”
It was the only class they didn’t have together, and it gave Harry a little bit of anxiety to separate from her. “Okay, but we need some type of signal. It’s really you. Like a code word.”
“Hmm.” Hermione thought, then smiled. “Bathilda!”
Harry smiled back at her, reassured. “That makes total sense. Okay then, I’ll see you straight after class.”
4:30 pm
Hermione walked out of her Muggle Studies course, her eyes a little unfocused as her brain puzzled on the things Harry had been telling her. The only way she was aware of how more than one of the same person could be present was time travel, but from what Harry had said they were her , just a bit different from her.
There was something she had read about the Department of Mysteries after fifth year, when she had tried to make sense of some of the things she saw there. One of the magical objects stored in the Department of Mysteries was a magical orb that would allow you to see divergent realities. Much like the hypothesis of infinite realities being constantly created and branching out with each decision you made.
Hermione had been intrigued but skeptical. It sounded too much like a type of divination to see all the pathways of your choices. But she had so many other more urgent things to research that looking further into that magical object had fallen to the side, but now it was at the forefront of her mind. She was walking past one of the broom closets when a hand snapped out and grabbed her wrist, yanking her in the small closed space.
“Hey-” A hand clamped over her mouth.
“Shhhh, Hermione. I don’t have much time.” Harry whispered to her, his arms tight.
“Harry, what are you—” She stopped, staring up at him in the semi-darkness.
He paused for a minute, then slowly drew in a breath. “You always were quick.” Harry’s hand came up and cupped her chin. “I’ve been looking for you. I’ve missed you, Hermione.”
“You’re not Harry.” Her hand trembled where she clenched her wand. Harry had described the others as obviously not her, but—but he hadn’t told her how much her they must have been. This Harry in front of her felt like—felt like Harry.
“I am.” He whispered. “I can prove it.”
“You’re not.” Hermione said stubbornly, twisting her chin away from him.
“Bathilda.” He paused. “It was such a you code word. I never forgot.”
The fake Harry, who somehow knew—impossibly knew—the code word Hermione had agreed upon with the real Harry just hours ago pressed closer to her. He felt different pressed against her than her Harry, harder, more lean, and his arms wrapped around her so tightly she let out a squeak.
Even though Hermione knew she should be panicking, she should be pushing him away. The stranger was too much Harry for her ever to believe he meant her harm. He buried his face in her neck and she could feel the dampness of his tears as he said again hoarsely, “I really missed you, Hermione.”
Slowly her arms came up, and she squeezed him back, trying to reassure him. “It’s okay, Harry. I’m here.”
Harry made a choked sound, almost a laugh, and lifted his head slightly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “We win the war, Hermione! You stayed with me the whole time — you —- we win the war because of you helping me or I would’ve died.”
“How do you know? I mean, well, I guess if you know–but what do we do? Does Dumbledore fight you-know-who–”
“Hermione.” Harry cut off her scrambled questions as his statement filled her with exhilaration. “You just have to remember one thing, okay? One thing and we’ll win.”
“What?” Hermione asked eagerly, staring up at him.
“On the very last day of the war, I’m going to leave into the dark forest, and you’ll tell me you’ll go with me.” His hands tightened almost painfully on her shoulders. “When I tell you I have to go alone, you have to stay behind. Don’t follow me behind my back. I have to go alone.” He shook her slightly. “You can’t follow or I’ll lose everything. Everything. Okay?”
“But—”
“I’ll lose everything, Hermione,” Harry repeated, his voice desperate.
“Lumos.” Her wand glowed in the small, cramped broom closet. Hermione stared at the strange simile of her best friend. This Harry was older, his shoulders broader. The rough scrape of his face was the prickles of his unshaven face. His familiar green eyes gleamed at her, torment in their depths.
There was a scar around his neck, and she could see strange puncture wounds on his forearm where he clutched at her.
“Please, Hermione.” Harry whispered.
“I’d never let you go alone.”
Harry searched her eyes, then let her go and patted his chest briefly. He nodded as if she had agreed, relief spreading through his expression. “Thank you.”
“I didn’t promise anything. I won’t promise anything–I don’t know who you are—”
“Before I go—”
“Where are you—”
“I know there’s weirdness. It will stop, I promise. I just had to talk to you to make it right—”
“Harry–” Hermione’s voice came out strangled as she realized her lumos was starting to shine through him. “Harry, what’s happening?”
“I don’t have much time — just remember Hermione — and remember—” Harry leaned forward, pressing close again. But this time there was no warmth to his skin, and he seemed more and more insubstantial. His green eyes seemed unnaturally bright as he stared at her, “You’re my everything, Hermione.”
Harry came close again and this time Hermione closed her eyes as he came so close, there was the whisper of his lips pressing against hers, before the sensation was gone. Her eyes snapped open, and she was alone in the broom closet.
Pain stabbed in her chest, and she ran out of the closet towards the library, where her Harry was — where her Harry would definitely be waiting for her.
Please be waiting.
4:50 pm
Hermione took the corner of the corridor in a panicked rush to the library and slammed into someone bouncing backward onto the floor, her books scattering.
“Harry!”
“Hermione!”
Harry seemed just as intent to scramble towards her as she was to feel him solid in her arms. She practically lunged at him from where she had landed on the floor and only breathed a sigh of relief when her arms locked around his solid figure, somewhat softer than the older Harry who had disappeared in the broom closet.
“Are you okay?” Harry whispered urgently, his arms tight.
Hermione nodded against his shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” Harry said a little shakily before clearing his throat. “I think I know what happened to the other Hermiones, though.”
Hermione pulled back a little to look into his face, her arms still around him. “What happened?”
“I think they faded away–like ghosts.” Harry swallowed hard, his gaze dropping from hers. “I saw another you again. She was different from the others. She seemed to know I wasn’t the Harry she knew.”
“I was talking to her and—and—” Harry stopped, his hands clenching so hard on her it almost hurt.
“She faded away.” Hermione finished for him.
“How do you know?” He asked, shocked, drawing back from her to inspect her more closely.
Hermione gave him a comforting squeeze. “It’s really me—the real me. It’s just I ran into a different you too and he was talking to me and then he just disappeared right in front of me.”
“What did I—he—the other me tell you?” Harry asked, his eyes shadowed.
Hermione nibbled on her lip, staring at him. “That the weirdness would stop. What did the other me say?”
“To be honest with myself.”
Hermione’s forehead crinkled in thought as she stared at him, her face still close to his, “What is that supposed to mean?”
Harry’s shoulders lifted and fell, a blush stealing across his cheeks. “That I’m not as brave as you think I am.”
“Of course you — that Hermione is obviously wrong—” She said, offended on his behalf.
Harry was already shaking his head, though. “No, she’s right. You’re always right. It’s just that it’s really hard for me because you — you're my everything.”
Hermione froze at that phrase, staring into Harry’s bright green eyes as he gazed earnestly back at her.
“You’re not just my best friend, and I can’t even imagine what I would do without you. I focused on everyone else but you beside me because I couldn’t make myself risk ruining our friendship.” Harry leaned even closer to her, his lips brushing against hers as he quietly whispered. “Because you’re my everything.”
You can’t follow or I’ll lose everything. Everything. Okay?
The other Harry’s words echoed in Hermione’s head as she moved her hands and cradled the back of Harry’s neck as she leaned forward to kiss him gently.
I promise, Harry.