The Wrath of Hermione

Minerva McGonagall looked sternly at the fifth-year Gryffindor now in her office. It had been a busy morning, and the Deputy Headmistress was frazzled. She didn't have time to deal with runaway schoolgirls - even ones she liked - while the Ministry was busy screwing Magical Britain with its ridiculous machinations.

While the Minister had - for some unknown reason - admitted that Voldemort was back, the Ministry had not stopped its campaign to savage the reputations of Albus Dumbledore and the Boy-Who-Lived. Now it was claiming, through the Daily Prophet, that they were responsible for the murder of Lucius Malfoy and that they had blackmailed the Minister into 'officially coming around to Dumbledore's point of view'. It was an excellent way for the Ministry to have its own cake and eat it.

Minerva tried to put all that aside and focus on the abashed sixteen year old in front of her. Perhaps this would be easier after all - it wasn't as if Hermione Granger was guilty of anything serious.

"Do you know how worried we were - how worried I was - when your dorm-mates said you had not slept in? When you failed to turn up for breakfast or morning lessons? It was only when Mr Potter assured us that he had received a message saying that you were safe ... " She looked at her student's face. Hermione had already apologized several times. "Could you not have at least left a note? Or sent him the message earlier?"

"I had intended to return earlier, Professor," replied Hermione.

McGonagall sighed. "Communication is crucial, Miss Granger. Bear that in mind. Now, can and will you tell me where you went?"

"I am sorry," replied Hermione, "but it's too personal for that."

"I see," said McGonagall. Her tone changed slightly. "You are aware that you can always tell me anything in the strictest confidence?"

Hermione almost snorted. Her face was impassive, however.

"Were you able to find someone to tell?"

Hermione nodded.

"And you told them, and are feeling better now?"

Hermione nodded.

"For that at least, I am glad. You will still have to be punished, however. A hundred points off Gryffindor and six detentions. They will be with me, Monday and Thursday nights, for the next three weeks. You will retain your prefect badge thanks to your exemplary behaviour prior to this incident."

Hermione nodded, surprised that the punishment had not been worse.

"Now that that's taken care of," continued the Gryffindor Head briskly, "we can talk about other matters. Have you heard of the attack on the Dursley home?"

Hermione's head snapped up. "What? Was anyone hurt? Is Harry ok? I must go see him now!" She began to get up, but the teacher motioned her to sit down. Internally, she began preparing her speech to thank the Academy. An impartial observer might have asked if Hermione's mother had had a one night stand with a certain werewolf seventeen years ago.

"Mr Potter has been informed," replied McGonagall. "I believe he is with at lunch with Mr Weasley at the moment. Does he know you are back to Hogwarts yet?" Hermione did not answer. "I already know you have some method of communication with him. I don't care to know what it is. Personally," and with this she gave Hermione a searching look, as if trying to convey a secret message, "I am rather relieved that he has someone to communicate with. Heaven forbid he's been denied enough of that."

Hermione paused. Professor McGonagall was normally her favourite teacher, but her refusal to face up to Dumbledore against sending Harry to the Dursleys was a huge black mark against her in Hermione's book. And since McGonagall had been never lived long enough to see Harry and Hermione's wedding, Hermione had never got a chance to tell her about The Evil That Was Vernon Dursley.

"Was anyone hurt, Professor? And I thought Death Eaters couldn't get close to the place! He's got loads of wards and stuff on it, doesn't he?"

Hermione had once, on a Muggle train ride where she had forgotten to bring a book to read, spent three hours contemplated the Art Of Mendacity. A common technique for interrogators was to see if a suspect provided the correct information about an event before being told. This had a useful converse - if a suspect provided incorrect information about an event, it was more likely that the suspect knew nothing about it.

In this case, Hermione knew that it was impossible for Death Eaters to attack Number Four Privet Drive due to the wards. She suspected Minerva knew this. Of course, Minerva certainly did not know that Hermione knew this. Therefore, it was completely logical for Hermione to jump to the conclusion that Death Eaters were responsible. QED - Hermione knew nothing of the attack.

Hah.

"Vernon Dursley was found ripped to shreds, as if by wild dogs, outside his home this morning. Dudley Dursley was away at a friend's house last night. Petunia Dursley hasn't said a word and appears to be greatly traumatized."

"Oh," said Hermione in a small voice. Then she looked up proudly. "I'm glad. Mr Dursley used to beat and hit and starve Harry. I am very glad."

Minerva's eyes widened. She had never expected Hermione to be happy that someone died. Nor had she known about the ...

"Beatings, Miss Granger? Starvation?"

"You don't know?" asked Hermione, looking surprised. "Why do you think Harry doesn't ever want to go there? They don't feed him enough. They put bars on his windows and locks on his doors and feed him barely enough to keep a hamster alive. I don't know if he is physically abused - other than bruising and a few punches and broken bones - but everyone who knows him knows he is emotionally abused. And Vernon is the chief enforcer. That aunt of his wouldn't dare abuse him if Vernon wasn't there. I'm glad Vernon is gone."

"But," spluttered McGonagall, "would Harry not tell us if he is abused?"

Hermione reminded herself not to lose her patience. McGonagall was, for all her good points, only a Pureblood. Physical abuse did not happen much in the Magical world.

"Abused children rarely tell anyone," she said instead. "Lots of Muggle psychology books say so. They are brought up to think that they are worthless and deserve the abuse." She paused for a moment. "I shouldn't be telling you this - Harry would kill me. But --- I'd rather have him kill me than have them kill him."

McGonagall sighed, and put her glasses down on the table so she could rub her eyes. "I hope Mr Potter realizes what a good friend he has in you. I always knew the Dursleys were a bad sort. I was there when the Headmaster placed him there as an infant. I begged him not to, but he did."

"Hmph," said Hermione, folding her arms. "If his mother came back as a ghost now, she would not be happy with you. And certainly not with the Headmaster."

"Albus remains adamant that Harry is best off there."

"Why?" asked Hermione, making a guttural noise that mixed frustration and curiosity. She didn't have to fake the first emotion much. "Is he trying to create another Tom Riddle?"

Minerva looked horrified. "Miss Granger! How dare you accuse the Headmaster of such a thing!"

Hermione remained unmoved. "I know Harry will never turn into a Voldemort. But that's really despite of his upbringing. Think of it - very powerful wizard placed in an abusive childhood and never learns of his heritage until he's eleven. If I was in Harry's pa - shoes, I'd be Morgana le Fay by now." She breathed a sigh of relief - she'd almost said 'pants'. She was still recovering from the note she had received this morning and the knowledge that she and Future Harry had been cheated out of three years together by her jealous 'younger sister'.

"Albus has told me that there are some powerful protections on the Dursley home."

"Protection from what? From threats outside? What about those from the inside?"

The fireplace in the room sprung to life.

"Minerva!" said the Headmaster's voice suddenly from it. "May I see you in my office at once? Oh, hello, Miss Granger." The Headmaster's face looked at her with the faintest trace of suspicion. She wondered if he was considering the fact that she had disappeared on the night of Vernon Dursley's murder to be more than a coincidence. "Is there anything you have to tell me?"

Hermione decided that since everything was falling apart anyway, there was little to lose. She smiled pleasantly. "Oh no, sir. Professor McGonagall and I were just having a fascinating discussion on how much you hate my friend Harry." She smiled again at the look of shock on his face and stood to leave McGonagall's office.

"Miss Granger!" said the older witch.

"Yes, Ma'am?" asked Hermione.

McGonagall looked flustered, a highly unusual sight. "May I tell him of your words on Mr Potter's home life?"

"Please do, Professor. But you're not dealing with someone as sensible and willing to admit mistakes as yourself. Don't expect him to listen to you. Harry's just a pawn in Professor Dumbledore's game of chess. He doesn't care for Harry as a human being. You have some nerve keeping secrets from him - he didn't even know the Potters had a Seat on the Wizengamot till four days ago!"

Hermione knew her words were unduly harsh, for Albus Dumbledore did care a lot for Harry. But she was angry with him and perhaps angry words would have more of an impact than gentle persuasion had had so far. She almost made her robes billow menacingly as she swept out of the room, but remembered in time that she wasn't supposed to know the Billowing Charm. (That was a Snape secret that Future Harry had got out of the Potions Master in repayment for a Life Debt.)

Minerva turned to look at the Headmaster, who was still staring at the door.

"Well, Albus," said McGonagall angrily. Her anger wasn't directed at Hermione either. "It seems Miss Granger did have something to say. And so do I. Get to your office, I'll be there in a minute to finish what she started."

As Hermione approached the Great Hall - it was lunchtime - she wondered how long it would take for Albus Dumbledore to place her on his Watch For Signs Of Turning Dark list. Of course, there was a chance that he would help her, but she wasn't betting Harry's life on it.

She idly added Cutting My Hair Short to her list of things to do. That was what she had done at Cambridge and it was far more convenient. Speaking of her Cambridge days, she wondered idly if she could persuade Harry to take a Temporary Gender Inversion Potion ...

Hermione entered the Great Hall and headed for the Gryffindor table. Much finger pointing and whispering accompanied her - clearly the news that the Perfect Prefect had missed morning classes had made the rounds. She chuckled to herself - if only they knew what she'd really been up to.

She stopped briefly at the Ravenclaw table to whisper into Luna Lovegood's ear that she had some information that she had information on capturing Snorkacks. She did not explain that this was based on a future discovery of Luna's. Instead she chose to enjoy the gobsmacked look on the blonde's face, something she had never seen even in her Future dimension. Hermione smiled, pressed the Ravenclaw's shoulder and told her she'd find her later.

There were two reasons for accosting Luna. One, she had become one of Hermione's closest friends in the future. Two, keeping things secret weren't so important now. Three, Hermione needed the Snorkacks - Future Luna said so in her message that morning. The reason Snorkacks were so elusive was that they kept wandering between Time and Space. Plus they were extremely absent minded, though that was not relevant here. The relevant point was that Snorkack droppings (ewww) were quite likely to be a vital ingredient in any plan to cross dimensions.

Harry, Ron, and Ginny were standing up as she approached the Gryffindor table. Hermione smiled at her boys. The smile dropped as she turned to Ginny. She didn't really know how to react. Yes, this Ginny in the past was innocent, but -- if Ginny could backstab Hermione in the future when they were friends and Hermione was at an emotional valley, then when could Ginny ever be trusted?

The smile on Ginny's face faded as she saw Hermione's demeanour change. She was confused, understandably so. Harry and Ron noticed the interaction between the two girls, and were confused as well.

"Hello, Harry, Ron,. .. Ginny, " said Hermione. "Harry, I need to talk to you in private. Can we go outside as soon as I make a sandwich?"

"Er, sure," said Harry.

Ron looked at the two of them and raised an eyebrow at Hermione. She was making a sandwich using Harry's plate while still standing.

"I will talk to you too, bro," she said to Ron, "but I need to talk to Harry first."

Ron nodded to her, and asked, "Is this related to - er - this morning's news?" She looked at him and he mouthed 'Dursley'. "

"In part," answered Hermione.

"I didn't know you talked to Luna," said Ginny, still confused. "Not that there's anything wrong with it," she added hurriedly. "She's a friend of mine. I just didn't think you - er - liked her very much."

"Yes," admitted Hermione. "I've made a lot of mistakes about who I like and don't like. If you must know, I've been doing some research on some of the strange creatures she talks about. Some of them actually exist, so I want to ask her about other ones. She's really smart."

Jaws dropped around the table, and a lot of the Gryffindors sitting around them turned to give the blonde Ravenclaw a second look. They had never heard Hermione Granger call another student "really smart". Hermione was amused to see Ron looking at his future wife as if seeing something for the first time. She said in a low voice to him, "I think you can convince her to like the Cannons, brother mine."

All carpets in the Future Weasley-Lovegood residence were Chudley orange. Hermione usually wore shades when she visited.

Harry watched all this with curious interest.

"I'm done," said Hermione, looking at her sandwich. "Come on, kiddo." She grabbed Harry's hand and dragged him out of the Great Hall. He was surprised, but didn't pull back.

"What's going on, Mione?" he asked as they headed for the castle doors.

"A lot, Harry," she replied, reaching into her pockets for some bubblegum. "Want some gum?"

"Er..." he replied, the memories of a polyjuiced Moody the previous year coming to mind.

"You and Ron created a distraction for me to steal boomslang skin from Professor Snape's office. I got a hair of Mllicent Bulstrode's cat and ended up with a furry little problem."

Harry took the gum and began chewing. Hermione did the same with her own piece.

"Okay, that should be enough," she said, watching him carefully for his reaction. "Hear anything unusual, Harry?"

Harry had the most adorable look of shock on his face. Hermione smiled.

"What's enough?" he asked.

"Those are the Weasley Twin's greatest invention, the Telepathy Teasers." said Hermione's voice in Harry's head. "While we both chew them, and for an hour afterwards, we can both talk to each other in our heads so no-one can overhear us.

"Wow!" said Harry, catching on. "Those two are geniuses! When did they - oh wait - " He concentrated on speaking in his head.. "Can you hear me now?

"Yes, I can hear you Harry.

"Excellent! When did they make these? They've never told me about them!"

"They haven't made them yet. They make them five years from now."

"Er, wossat?" he asked in regular speech. She glared at him. "Oops, sorry."

"Please don't be angry with me, Harry, but I'm from the future. Nearly ten years into the future."

"Oh." He was silent for a few moments. "Er. Um. Ngh. Is this where I say 'Welcome to the past'?"

"You believe me that quickly? Your jaw should be digging a hole to the centre of the earth by now."

"You would never lie to me, Hermione."

With that simple declaration, every single barrier in Hermione's head shattered. She leaped on him to give him a hug that was bone-crushing even by Hagrid standards.

"Oh, Harry!" she cried verbally.

Harry awkwardly patted her back. He wondered how solid his Patronus would be by now.

She leaned back to look at him, to see his eyes. True, this wasn't her Harry, but ... his eyes were still their gorgeous emerald self ...

Fred : Hello there!
George : This is a commercial break.
Fred : They know that, Forge, the heading already said so.
George : I know, Gred, but the script says we should tell them again.
Fred : This is the script! We're writing this as we go along!
George : You mean we're winging this?
Angelina : Do you two idiots realize time's a-ticking away? Fanfic commercial time isn't free, you know!
Fred : Yes, dear!
George : We're here to explain to you, dear wise and noble reader, about why you should spend ten galleons for a box of Telepathy Teasers.
Fred : Or thirty five galleons for five boxes.
George : Special discount for anyone taking Binns' class.
Fred : Imagine, if you will, ...
Angelina : TIME'S UP!
George : Aargh!
Fred : That's it, we're sticking to ordinary product placement in fanfics...
George : Yeah, we've probably pissed off enough readers by interrupting that kiss.
Fred : They were kissing already? Any tongue? Who won the pool?
George : Um... let me see... shit, you're not going to believe this...
Angelina : Who?
Fred : Yeah, who?
George : (in a very weak voice) There must be some mistake... the only person who predicted the date correctly was... Professor Trelawney...
Fred : That settles it, we're obviously in some weird alternate universe... there's supposed to be all kind of angst first before their first kiss...

"What's it like, the future?" asked Harry. They were sitting on a rock overlooking the lake. Both were skiving off class, but as it was just History of Magic ...

"Well, you beat Voldemort," replied Hermione.

"Really?" he asked, shocked. He'd never considered himself capable of it. "How?"

"It's a long story, but let's just say for now that you didn't do it alone. Did you know there was a prophecy about you and Voldemort made before you were born?"

"Prophecy? What prophecy?

She recited it for him.

"Oh," he said. "So that's why he's been after me. Is this why he killed my - you know?"

"Yes, she replied. "Partially, anyway. He learnt about the first bit before you were born. Not the bit about marking you as an equal. Your parents had already faced him three times. The first time was in Diagon Alley. They got away when your dad conjured an anvil above his head and let it drop. He got the idea from watching Road Runner cartoons on Saturday mornings with your mum. Or maybe it was Tom and Jerry, ask Remus. Voldemort survived because he's got excellent shields. The second time was in Hogsmeade. Your mum and Remus had been working on Acid Bombs - they filled dung bombs with Muggle Hydrochloric acid. Your father, being a Chaser, threw them. Voldemort got burnt, but he banished it quickly enough - it's a pity Tom knows so much about Muggle science. The third time was back in Diagon Alley. This time he injured both your parents badly, but they managed to escape with emergency portkeys. In any case, that was how they had already defied him three times."

"Wow," said Harry, eagerly absorbing this information and feeling very proud of his parents. "Why didn't anyone ever tell me this?"

"You don't ask enough questions, Harry," replied Hermione.

"You're not the first person who's told me that," said Harry, checking his pocket to see if the List Of Questions For Mum And Hermione was still there. It was, and he showed it to her.

"What's this?" she asked. "Oh, Harry! I'm so proud of you!" You made a list of questions to ask your uncles about your mum!"

"Uncles? Oh, yeah, I suppose they are uncles in a way." He suddenly remembered the news he had received about Vernon Dursley, a man who really was his uncle but whom he had never really associated with the term. Petunia may have been Aunt Petunia, but Vernon was always... Vernon.

"Oh, Harry, I'm sorry! I should have asked about Vernon before! How are you feeling about him?"

"I'm not sure," replied Harry. "I mean, he was family, but ..."

"He was an asshole," said Hermione, her face stern.

"It's not good to speak ill of the dead..."

"Fine. He's a dead asshole."

"Hermione!"

They looked at each other, noting that the traditional roles of progressiveness-conservativeness had been reversed.

"Are you sad that he's dead, Harry?

"Yes, of course! He was my uncle! I never wanted him dead!"

"Can I tell you something that will make you very angry with me? Something that will make you wonder if I really am your Hermione from the future?"

"My Hermione?" mumbled Harry softly. "Did you have anything to do with his death? Is that where you were last night?"

"I didn't kill him," she said, looking at him directly, "But I would have because he has hurt you very much and would have continued to hurt you. I basically asked some of my friends to kill him, and they killed him. Now, do you hate me?"

Harry looked at her in shock and backed away. Her heart broke a bit, but she understood. This was not her Harry per se, but a younger version of him. This was not a Harry who had only seen one friend die in front of him. He had yet to be forged by war.

"You killed him?" he said weakly. "How could you? Are you ..."

"Am I what, Harry? A monster? So what if I am? I've killed thirty-eight people - directly. That's what happens in a war, and we were in a war for four long years. I love you Harry. I love you in the future, anyway. But I still love you now, in this past. It doesn't matter if you love me or not. Next summer, Vernon would have beaten you so badly that you almost died. Your magic healed you and no-one noticed. I was the only person you ever told, long afterwards. When I got here, Vernon's days were numbered. Oh, and I also attacked Draco - I've healed him now, by the way - and killed Lucius Malfoy and those with him - yes, two of them were innocents which I regret, and I'm sorry about the two horses as well - and I've killed five of Voldemort's spies in the Ministry."

Harry stared at her, gaping. "You love me?"

"I should'na said that," said Hermione in her best Hagrid imitation. Even in mind-speak, it sounded Swedish. "Well, yes. I don't know when I fell in love with you. It might have been Third Year. I know I only admitted it to myself in Seventh Year. Funnily enough, Ron realized it before I did and made me admit it."

"Killing isn't right, Hermione," said Harry, wanting to avoid all this subject and still in shock at her admission. Hermione was hurt, but knew that Harry was still trying to figure his feelings out. It hadn't helped, her dropping everything on him like that, but there was no way she was going to pull a Dumbledore on him. "It lowers us to their level."

"Killing is never right, Harry. But sometimes we have to do it. If you know someone is going to kill a million people, should you kill him and save those people or should you not kill him because killing is wrong?"

"You could have - disabled him somehow. Removed his magic, perhaps."

"True. Then again, Muggles have the same problem. Guns and mines kill thousands of people each year, no magic required. But you raise a good point. I could have removed Lucius' magic. I don't deny that I wanted revenge on him for going on to live and kill my friends. And it's not like he's particularly innocent either - he was Voldemort's Chief Influencer in the Ministry. I could have had Vernon merely disabled. But Dumbledore would have healed him, and then Vernon would be able to hurt you. No, I have no regrets about killing your uncle. As for Lucius, I may killed him when I could have done something else, but I chose not to. I am glad he is dead. If someone else had killed him, I would be getting pissed on champagne right now." "

"I've got to go think," said Harry and pushed himself off the rock. "Sorry, but I really do." He looked at her. "Are there any other secrets?"

"How much time have you got?" She gave him a weak smile. "I guess I should say a few things. We remained - we remain - bloody hell, I've got my tenses all mixed up! - close for several years, until about three years ago. Then something happened, and someone deceived us both, and we haven't spoken to each other for the last years. When I got here by accident - remember that day I talked to you and Ron about the war broomsticks? - I still thought you hated me, and you still thought I hated you. But I would never hate you - I don't think I'm capable of it. We just made a really bad mistake. But," and at this Hermione visibly brightened up. "I got a letter from you - Future You - this morning! Luna - Future Luna, didn't I tell you she was really smart? - found a way of getting a message to me here. The letter explained how we were both deceived. Future You doesn't hate me now!"

"Oh," said Harry. "I'm - er - glad to hear it. I don't think I could hate you either. Why did you think I hated you?" He had forgotten that he had not answered Hermione's question earlier about whether he hated her.

"I thought you hate me now," said Hermione in a small voice, waving her hand at the distance between them.

"I don't hate you," said Harry, coming closer to her. "I just - I just don't understand you at the moment. It's just - so much information. I suppose you're around twenty five, but I'm still fifteen. I still trust you but - I'm just confused and tired. I just need some time."

"Oh, Harry! she said with a wide smile. He could see a pair of tear tracks meander down her face. "Thank you! You can have all the time you need! I'll be here for you as long as I'm here."

"Er," he said, focusing on the qualification in her statement. "As long as you're here? You might return to the future? And where's the Past - I mean the Present, I mean the You who was here before You came - Merlin, this is confusing - where's the other You gone? And will she still be here if you go back? And what about the Future Me? He must be missing you, right?"

Hermione bit her lip. "I am a mixture of the Future Me and the Past Me, if that makes any sense. Our universes, our dimensions, were exactly the same - as far as I can tell - until the moment that I arrived here. The Past Me got all the extra memories, so we share the same brain, but are kind of like two different souls. My magic is more than Either Me had before, but I don't know if it's more or less than twice as much. There's no way of really measuring magic. Or checking for the number of souls in a person. Maybe I have one and a half souls in me, it's not like there have been many prior examples of this."

"Oh."

"And yes, there is a Future Harry that I'd love to get back to. But you are him, just younger. You're the same person, and I still love you." There. She had said it again.

"Before today," said Harry aurally, "I thought I might be falling in love with you. But I don't really know what love is, you know? Do you - er - think you could help me find out?"

She bit her lower lip, surprised. Then she nodded her head vigorously, so that her hair bounced all over the place. She brushed it aside, annoyed. "I really should cut my hair."

"I just asked you out - I think," said Harry with a wide grin, "and you say you should cut your hair? I'm so hurt!" He placed his hand over his heart. Actually, it was over his stomach, but Hermione didn't tell him that. Normal boys thought with their stomachs (and other organs) more than with their hearts, and it was fun to pretend that Harry was a normal boy.

"Prat."

"Know-It-All."

"Snitch-crazy Twit."

"Bouncy Bookworm."

"Four-eyed Parselmouth."

"Library Addict."

"Quidditch-obsessed Git."

"That's an insult? Alright then, you asked for it. Gryffindor."

Hermione giggled. "Gryffindor? You're far more Gryffindor than I am!"

Harry chuckled, before remembering something. He switched back to Telepathese. "Hey, what about the Future Me? Can he come here? I mean, the dimensions have split now, right?"

Hermione smiled at Harry's intuitive grasp of time-dimensional-travel. "He can - You can - Luna's working on it - but if that happens, he'll be taking over your body. And yes, the dimensions have split since I got here - there are no war broomsticks where I came from though I can certainly say there were battles where they would have come in handy - but that should be still manageable if you add another term to the equations that accounts for - oh, there I go again - I'll shut up now."

"It's cute when you ramble," he grinned.

"As if you listen."

"It's a pleasant lullaby, soft, soothing, ..."

"It still puts you to sleep faster than Binns."

"Nothing's faster than Binns. Faster than McGonagall, perhaps." His face turned serious again. "Look, I don't want Future Me to lose you. If he wants to come over here and I get his memories, I'm cool with that. Perhaps it's because I don't understand what's going on that I'm willing to do this, but it's just that I want you to be happy." He laughed as she leaped on him again to embrace him. They collapsed to the ground. "I can't - compete, I guess - with you when you're ten years older than me. But an older me can. Besides, I can't stand the thought of Any Me losing Any You. Plus he'll have knowledge that we can use to kill off ol' Snakeface earlier, right?"

"Thank you, Harry," she said, kissing his nose. "But I will always love you both, no matter what happens."

They lay there for a few minutes in comfortable silence.

"Oh no!" said Hermione suddenly. "We've got to get to Charms!"

"Must we?" he whined. She glared at him. "Oh yes, of course we must get to Charms. Can't have you missing any lessons today, can we?"

"Must you rub it in so? Just because I skived off this morning... She stood up, rubbing her robes and skirt down to remove odd bits of grass.

"It's part of my job as your annoying male friend," he replied.

"Boyfriend. You're my boyfriend now."

"Oh. Cool. That makes you my girlfriend too, right?

"Yes. It. does." She spoke slowly, as if speaking to a small child. He chuckled.

"Where were you, anyway?"

"Long story," she sighed. "I was at Snuffles' place. I went to tell my story to him and Moony. I was too scared to tell you first, and there was some stuff related to Draco and his mother - she's on our side now, though Draco isn't - I told you I healed Draco now, right? Anyway, I expected them to Hex me to bits, but they didn't. Anyway, we talked a lot, and then I - "

She paused, looking embarassed.

Hermione could read Harry very well. But he could read her as well.

"There is nothing you can say that will cause me to turn away from you," said Harry. "Even if you were to become a Death Eater, I would assume that you were going in as a spy."

She rested her head against his shoulder again as they walked to the castle. Younger Harry was far more mature than she had remembered him being. She really had been too judgemental as a teenager. Plus she was still kicking herself for ever believing that Harry could have cheated on her. If only they had just talked!

"What if I turned for real?" she asked him. "Then you'd die. The world would be doomed."

"The world can go play with itself. Why would I want to live in a world where Hermione Granger wasn't on my side?"

"You cannot honestly say that."

"Maybe not. But I'm ninety percent sure of it."

"It's just your hormones talking."

"Does it matter? I'm really going to want to know what happened to make Future Me get angry with Future You. I have some things to say to myself, that's for sure."

Hermione giggled. "Talking to yourself is never a good sign, Potter."

"This from the girl who - never mind. What did you tell Padfoot and Moony?"

Hermione sighed. Harry really was quite the terrier when it came to information hunting. "I told them I was going to kill Vernon before you went to the Dursley's next summer. They were shocked and asked me why. So I told them about some of the things Vernon did to you when you were younger. I am sorry. I broke a promise to Future You not to tell anyone. Not that I promised, since by the time you told me, Vernon was already dead. That's about four years from now. But you did tell me in confidence."

Hermione took a deep breath, and continued.

"Anyway, I had only gone through about ten minutes when they were so furious that they dashed over to number four and ripped your uncle to shreds. Remus and Moony were so mad that they finally joined - Remus has been avoiding joining Moony all his life - and now he's a full werewolf, a True Lycan. He can transform at will even when it's not full moon. He transformed and helped Padfoot disassemble Vernon. Your aunt saw the attack and is in hospital in a state of shock. Your cousin wasn't home. Don't blame them, Harry, blame me - if they hadn't done it, I would have. I'm an Animagus wolf."

She waited for his reaction, but he remained silent. They were nearly at the doors of Hogwarts now. Scattered groups of students gazed curiously at them. Hermione sighed.

"They've quit the Order now, because they know the Headmaster won't approve, and so that he won't find out about my secret life from them. They're on your side all the way - you just need to tell them what to do. I also think you've got the support of the Black Family - that means Tonks and her mum and Mrs Malfoy as well as Sirius - in getting rid of Voldemort. Yes, Mrs Malfoy. She's been under the Imperius of Lucius Malfoy since they were married. She was forced to marry him by her parents. She's gots loads of blackmail and stuff on people in the Ministry and the Wizengamot. She blackmailed Fudge to change his mind - we're still going to have to take care of him and the Daily Prophet, though. Plus I know lots of stuff about how we got rid of Voldemort last time. We're going to get the bastard, and get him good, and fewer people will die."

There was more silence. Harry had stopped feeling guilty about Vernon, though he did feel very guilty about his aunt seeing the whole thing. She must have been terrified.

There was something, something deep within Harry's psyche, that had changed in the last hour. He had never, ever, really trusted anyone. He realized now that he had unconsciously been furious at everyone close to him about never doing anything to fix his home life, for never realizing how much and why he hated going back to the Dursleys.

No-one had ever stood up for him before, but now three people had. He could trust these people. He now had a girlfriend - though that seemed such a pale word to describe Hermione - and a father and an uncle. He had a family.

He still didn't understand how killing could ever be acceptable, but he knew that his future self did. Which meant that he could ... eventually... understand it. And boy was he going to try.

They were at the doors of the castle when he suddenly turned to Hermione and enveloped her in a huge hug.

"Thank you, Hermione Jane Granger. Thank you for being my friend, my ... my everything."

A/N : Righto! The story finishes here. There should (which is not to say there will) be a sequel called "The Wrath of the Blacks". In it, we'll see if Future Harry manages to find his way into this dimension. Andy Tonks is likely to kick some serious gluteus maximus. This is just a good place to leave this fic. If you don't agree with that, you're probably right.

The crude banner for this fic was created using the following sources.

• The explosion on the left is a 2006 photo from the US Army Public Affairs Office and is of weapons being blown up in Iraq. It's supposed to depict Lucius Malfoy's last moments.
• Inset in the explosion is an image of Hermione from the March 2007 Festival Du Timbre (Festival of Stamps) by the French Post Office. The organizers sure got it right when they placed Hermione on the International Mail stamps and Ron on the Slow Domestic Mail stamps! (Harry's visage is used for Fast Domestic Mail.) It's based on a photo of Paris-born Oxfordian Em Watson (who turns 17 in exactly a month at the time of writing).
• The snowy owl on the right is Hermione's avian animagus form (she used a feather from Hedwig in her Animagus potion) is from philgATmit.edu .
• In the middle is a sand sculpture of Kipling's 'Akela and Mowgli' (yes, Mowgli and not Hermione, but they've both got similar hair!) that was created for the International Festival of Sand Sculpture in Moscow in September 2005. The theme that year was 'Animal World'. The photo is by Nicholas Danilov for Moscow News but it doesnt say who the sculptor is.

This fic was written in five days.