The Frequency of Life

A/N: Alright, this story is one that I had created before, but now deleted and am attempting to write it as post-HBP. Which I think will work. You'll see bits and pieces of references to time from the past throughout the story, and I apologize for the long not. Now I would put this in as a part of the competition, however, given the circumstances of my story, that is not a possibility.

Chapter One:

Time is an illusion. Lunchtime doubly so. - Douglas Adams.

A sense of fear gripped Harry as he woke once more from his nightmares. Seventh year was a fourth of the way through and nothing he did could pull him out of his slump. Ron and Hermione were going out at the beginning of their seventh year, then they had a huge fight that nearly destroyed their friendship, his and Ron's that is. Harry had sided with Hermione during one of the fights, about NEWTS no less (which he desperately need to pass) and Ron said something about them being trivial causing Hermione to go off on Ron. Harry stepped in before Ron could do too much damage, but it was already done. She left the room in tears, Ron left with a black eye.

The year had been long. That was about the only word Harry could use to explain it. Well maybe long and difficult. He had found the locket which held one of the Horocruxes in it; it had been located in Grimmauld Place, Sirius' old home, and it was only be luck did he find it. Or at least that is what he called it. He, Ron and Hermione left to search for it, and had stopped there for the night. Harry had wandered the house, in an attempt to regain some of his thoughts on situation. He needed to stop and think about it, and rework some of his ideas. The door to Kretcher's cupboard was open, and out of curiosity, he entered to see what the little bugger had left behind. It was in an old shoe that was wrapped in a pair of torn knickers. The smell was unbearable and started it on fire to stop the smell. Inside the charred remains, lay the Horocrux, unscathed.

He woke Hermione and Ron, who were beginning the failings of their “mating ritual” and showed them it. Hermione kicked herself for not thinking RAB meant Regulus Black. He quickly destroyed the locket, a smile on his face as he blacked out from the pain of Voldemort. One down, four to go.

They had chosen to return to Hogwarts that year, in an attempt to find Hufflepuff's goblet as well as something of Ravenclaw's or Gryffindor's. Hermione had told him that she believed it to be Ravenclaw, and he wanted to believe her, though part of him thought that he was made into a Horocrux as well. She quickly shot down the idea, stating that `if you were one, Riddle would have never tried to kill you again.' Now they began the search at the school for the final two, and training to take on Voldemort and his army of darkness, as well as destroy Nagini in the process.

Sitting up, he rubbed the remaining amount of sleep out of his eyes. Reaching onto his nightstand, he grabbed his glasses and slid them over his eyes. Grabbing the mirror that Sirius had given him, he moved over to the window to watch the night sky. Recently he had done more of that, soul searching, then ever before.

The war was going worse, much worse..... Many of the students elected not to return, and there was an attack upon Hogsmeade. He was down there, defending the town, so was the rest of the trio. However, Hermione and Ron were not as ready as he was. Now something he regrets for even taking them with him. Ron was trying to defend Hermione and was hurt from a stray curse sent by another defender, something that Harry thought Ron should have avoided in the first place. Hermione was trying to defend a group of third years and was hurt. The Death Eaters that attacked them did not live long following the battle. Their injuries too extension, and Harry felt no guilt because of it, though he avoided those memories. He stared down at the small mirror as the Northern Lights, mystical colors and all played across the clear night sky.

They had appeared over Hogwarts recently, though, no one was quite sure why, not even Hermione. All he knew was that the last time they appeared, it was almost seventeen years ago, when his parents had died.

"I wish there was someone there to help me understand. I wish you were here." He brought the mirror to his chest and closed his eyes.

"Sirius?"

Harry nearly dropped the mirror as he looked at it. The voice came again.

“Sirius, where the hell are you?” It was his father, James, or rather, as his father should have looked when Harry was born. “Sirius?”

“This isn't Sirius,” Harry said looking down into the mirror.

“Who are you? Where's Sirius?” James said quizzically.

“I'm you're son, Harry,” Harry said, trying to hold back his tears. Here was his chance, his chance to speak with his father

“My son is only a year old, not some teenager,” James said growling. “Listen to me.” His voice turned to a growl. “You come near my family, I will hunt you down you piece of-” Harry cut him off, forcing the words out of his mouth.

“You're name is James Potter, married to Lily Potter, I was born on July 31^st 1980, your best friends are Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettrigrew,” Harry said, staring intently into the mirror. “You, Sirius and Peter are all Animagi. You're a stag, Sirius is a large dog, and Peter a rat. Remus is a werewolf. You are all the Marauders.”

“How do you know all of this?” James said, his look of shock plain

“I'm you're son,” Harry said, tears coming into his eyes.

“But you're only…..” His voice trailed off.

“I don't know how……” Harry said, looking up at the night sky and lights dancing there. He began to wonder. These mirrors allowed them to communicate between each other, but now somehow, the one James had was communicating with the one in the present. “All I know is I'm your son, and you're may father.”

“Who's you're godfather?” James asked, still not convinced.

“Sirius,” Harry said smiling slightly. His eyes clouded over at a moment. A moment of silence occurred and Harry stared out of the window, still holding the mirror.

“My god……” Jarmes said. “You're eyes, their emerald like-like-”

“Mum's,” Harry finished. James nodded.

“How is this happening?” He voiced the same question Harry had been thinking. “Its really you insist it?”

“Yeah.”

“How old are you?” James asked.

“I turned seventeen this past summer,” Harry said.

“That would make it 1997?” James asked. Harry nodded, but the image fluttered.

“Dad? Dad?” Harry asked, staring intently into the mirror.

“I'm here, I haven't gone any where,” James said.

“I though I'd lost you,” Harry said with a sigh of relief.

“What do you mean? I'm still there aren't I?” Harry shook his head.

“You died, when I was young,” Harry said, tears coming to his eyes. He wiped them quickly and held the rest back.

“What? How?” James asked. The life appeared to be sucked out of him.

“On Halloween, Mum and you were killed……” Harry said, doing his best to hold back his tears.

“Halloween?” James asked. “That's tomorrow.” Harry's neck snapped up.

“Dad, listen to me, get us out of the house tomorrow, don't be there,” Harry said frantically. The mirror flickered again. “Dad! You hear me?”

“Why? What's going to happen?”

“Dad, just listen, you can't stay at Godric Hollow, leave get, mum and me out of there,” Harry pleaded. The mirror flicked again, this time the image staying out longer.

“First thing-start to pack…..get out of……” James image kept going in and out. “…..you son.”

“I love you too dad,” Harry said to the blank mirror.

Harry was too wired to even think about sleeping. He stayed up the remainder of the night, alternating between staring into the mirror and out of the window, watching the colorful lines dance in the sky. Fear gripped his heart. It was no dream, no fake memory. It really happened. He had talked to his father, and now did not know if he ever was going to again.

Morning came slowly, and once again, Halloween was hell for Harry. He started his day like normal and showered before everyone else, and headed out the door, with the mirror clutched tightly in his hands. Being Head Boy had its advantages. He was not going to let his father slip away. Not again.

He made his way down to the Great Hall, and smiled slightly. Like clock work, he just about knew where the Head Girl was at all times, partially from being so close, as close as two platonic friends could be, and some instinct within told him so. And it was right. Hermione was sitting there already, and she, as always, brought a little sunshine to his ever-growing dismal life. As he sat down next to her, he noticed the books she was reading about magical connection and protections.

“Morning Hermione,” Harry said, as he sat down. She looked shocked at first, but a large smile grew on her face as she realized who it was. She quickly surrounded his neck with one of her famous hugs, now her usual greeting for him.

“You didn't sleep,” she said. Her arms were still around his neck as she pulled back, loosing the hug slightly. He smiled shyly as the closeness, but said nothing. He never had to. She always could tell was he was thinking and the same with him. “A nightmare.”

“I sure hope not,” Harry said a smile growing. “But I don't feel like talking about it if that's alright.” She smiled, but kept her arms around his neck.

“Thank you,” she said, like she had for the last week or so. He was never quite sure why she said it, but she did. He allowed his arms to go around her. “If you need anything-”

“Actually, could we not go to the feast tonight?” He asked, not wanting to be around too many people. Professor Lupin had been reinstated and he wanted to know a bit more about his parents, especially with the discussion he had with his father the previous night. She eyed him strangely. “Its just with the war and all, I'd rather not relive my parents…..” She buried her head in his neck as she hugged him tighter.

“Sure,” she said after a few moments of hugging. “I understand. But you owe me one now.” She pulled away from him and returned to her breakfast and her book.

“Hermione, I owe you about a million for everything you've ever done for me,” Harry said. He leaned over and kissed her cheek, catching the slight blush rising up on it. He did not know why he did so, other than he had be dying to do that all morning. He never told anyone about his feelings toward her, after the fiasco with Ron made the pain even worse. Most of the time, he brushed it off as a crush that he could not get rid of. This was not one of those times.

“Thank you,” she said still blushing. “What are we doing today?”

“We are going to have dinner with Moony,” Harry said happily as he found a plate filled with food in front of him. He looked over at Hermione who just smiled. “Thank you.” She blushed again, and began to concentrate on the book in front of her.

Ron came down and sat across from them. It had been little over a month since the “incident” had happened and they had, on the surface, worked out all of the problems. Ron however, still was being a jerk to them both, though not noticeable unless you were Harry. Weeks of training with Moody and Lupin, following the destruction of the locket, had brought his wizarding skills to almost par of the old mentor. This however was before a short, but intense trying session within his mind with the Great Wizard himself, Merlin. This took place the first week of school, and he had fallen into a short coma. It was at this time his best friends had gone out. Now he believed in himself (and has the power to back it up), but that he did not give credit to either of his mentors. That came from Hermione's constant support and tutoring.

“What you so happy about?” Ron asked as he began to fill his own plate.

“Harry invited me to a private dinner with Moony,” Hermione said softly. She must have been holding back her blush because Harry knew he was. “He wants to talk about…..” Her voice trailed off as her blush increased.

“Forget it,” Ron said, waving them off. “I don't care.” He glared at Harry momentarily before returning to him meal.

“Well, I'm going to the library,” Harry said, standing up from his seat.

“But I just got here?” Ron said confused.

“Then finish up and you can join me in the library,” Harry said picking up his bag. “I'm going to get started on a side project.” Both of them knew he had done a great deal of these for Moody and for himself in preparation of the final battle. “Want to come Hermione?”

“She's already got her book here,” Ron said after swallowing a mouthful of food. Harry had to admit, the only good thing that came out of Ron's and Hermione's relationship was the boy learned some manners. Some.

“I think it may be a bit quieter in the library,” Hermione said. She marked the page of her book and accepted Harry's outstretched hand for help up.

“You two loons have fun,” Ron yelled at them. Harry noted the hate and anger in his words, which should have gone unnoticed.

They walked silently into the library and once they reached Hermione's supposedly unofficial table (Harry had money that she threatened anyone who thought about taking her table), Harry set off to find what he needed. Coming back after about a ten minute search and three minutes talking to Madame Prince, Harry sat down with two thick volumes on magical anomalies. He had to find everything and anything he could about what happened the previous night.

“You have a question Hermione?” Harry asked without looking up from the book. He looked up now to see her blushing face as she pushed a fallen strand of hair behind her hair.

“What are you looking for?” Hermione asked him, shyness in her voice.

“I'll tell you when I find it,” Harry said, going back to his book. His face burned slightly as he thought about what he had unconsciously asked her earlier. He did not mean for it to sound like a date, but it meant a great deal to him to have her there with him. Even when she was dating Ron, she was the only person he allowed to comfort him when he finally told her. Ron was still in the dark about the prophecy, but now that Hermione knew, everything seemed a bit light, a bit better.

“Hermione?” Harry asked. She looked up at him. “Thank you….for tonight I mean. I know you probably wanted to go to the feast, but….thanks.” He felt the blush over his face as he did this.

“You're welcome,” Hermione said blushing as well. “This just means you'll have to do something for me.”

“You name it, I'll do it,” Harry said with a large smile. They shared another smile before returning to their books; Harry could not help but glance at her every now and then, making sure she was still there and giving into a bit of his crush.

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A/n: I got bumped so I didn't get as many hits as I thought I would but..meh….anyway here is the next chapter, enjoy. Read and review, thank you.

Chapter Two

I never think of the future - it comes soon enough. Albert Einstein

James hurried down the stairs, holding three bags filled with as much clothes as they could take. He was still unsure of what to make of this Harry from the future, his son and the warning. The fear spoke within his voice scared James, much more than he'd like to have admitted. Voldemort was supposedly close on their tails and as much as he depended on the Fidelius charm before, he did not have the patience or resolve to do so now.

He had started packing first thing in the morning, but it took a long drawn out lie to Lily at the moment to get her to believe him. She was upset that he couldn't tell her the truth, but there was no way around him. He did not fully understand what was going on, or what was to happen, but he knew there was a distinct possibility that they were going to die that night. And the sound of his son's, Harry's, voice made it an impossible choice for him. He would be there for his son, telling Lily this sent her on a review of every book in their home for the protection spells they desperately needed.

“James, come quick, you've got to read this!” Lily said, yelling from up the stairs. He dropped the bags and rushed back up the stairs, in wonder of what was to come.

I0I

Harry sat nursing a cup of tea that Lupin had prepared for them. The older man had seen better days, but at the moment, he was retelling another tale of the Marauder's exploits. The fear of that night was still upon his mind as he looked down at the teacup, his image reflected upon the mucky waters.

He looked up to see Hermione laughing at something Lupin had just said. He cracked a smile, trying to not let the thoughts of the night before haunt him.

“-it was amazing,” Lupin said. “I don't think Snape knew what hit with Sirius's spell throwing him upside down.” Hermione laughed again, and Harry looked at her, wondering how he could ever get a friend like her. “You know, I doubt James would have turned around so much without Lily.” Harry's head snapped up.

“What do you mean?” He asked, speaking for the first time.

“Well, he was a good person, but I doubt if he had not fallen for Lily, he would have done something drastic, dangerously stupid or wasted away to nothing,” Lupin shook his head. “He'd have never saved Snape had it not been for Lily. As much as I miss Sirius, he and I both knew that James needed someone to keep him grounded, and despite my best efforts to help, Sirius was able to keep him off the ground, most time with plans of pranks and such. Lily however I think made him human, kept him here for everyone. Like a complement, so to speak. They were in every sense of the word soul mates. I doubt it James lived much of a life without her, he very well may not have lived……” Lupin's voice trailed off for a moment as Harry took everything. His mind was thrown back to his conversation with James. They had to make it, they just had to.

I0I

James nodded, understanding the spell that Lily was about to use. It could only be used once, and only once. And that was the problem. He needed some permanent way to protect his family. This one time deal would not end the war, not that way he wanted it too. He just wanted to be left alone. Make up his mind, he decided that if the war had not ended by the new year, to leave the wizarding world………as hard of thing as it was, to him it was the only logical choose.

“Ready love?” Lily asked. She was sitting with Harry in her arms in the middle of his room. Smiling, he knelt next to her, kissing her lightly on the forehead. She began to read out of the book, touching her wand to James's heart. He felt a burst of energy run through him, surrounding him. He smiled at her, performing the same spell upon her. He felt his “shield,” for lack of a better word, grow. He could not explain it, but there was something around him and with his arm wrapped around his wife as she held their young son, he could not help but feel like things might just work out for the first time in his life.

He never felt the room rupture open with that green light, nor did he see the maddening red eyes glaring down at his family. He never saw the face of the man who was planning on killing his whole world.

Things never go as they are planned though………

I0I

Harry tapped his teacup as Lupin told another story. Shaking his head, he had the feeling of the world surrounding him. A surge of pain ran through his body as something flashed through his mind. It wasn't horrible or from Voldemort. It was peaceful almost. A flash and he saw his father, opening Christmas gifts with him and his mother. He saw his mother reading to him on his bed, holding him close as he father looked in from the doorway. He saw his parents together as they sailed upon a cruise ship. He saw his father watching him play Quidditch for the first time.

So many memories. So many things Harry had never felt before. Something was bursting inside of him, but he held it back, held it in. Did this mean his father had succeeded? That they lived? Harry still remembered what it was like without his father, without his mother, at the Dursley's. Yet now, it was as if those things never existed.

“Harry, you okay?” Lupin asked him.

“How did my father die?” Harry asked, surprising both Hermione and his professor.

“Lung cancer, when you were ten,” Lupin said, looking at Harry oddly. “Are you sure you're okay?” Harry could not help but let the smile fill his face.

“Never better,” Harry said, reveling in some of his new memories. Maybe things would be alright for once…………

I0I

Harry made his way back to the Common Room in silence, smiling to himself. A sense of warmth had overcome him and he could not place the source. Hermione held his hand, and he could not help but smile as she smiled at him. Something wonderful had filled him inside, something that he could not explain. His scar was still there, and his memories were still jumbled, and it finally hit him that his father was still not there with him, rather taken by cancer.

“You sure you okay?” Hermione asked as they stopped at stairs in the common room. “You seemed a bit odd today?”

“I think so,” he said. “Thank you for coming with me.” He leaned over and kissed her lightly on the cheek. “You don't know what it means to me.” He said as he pulled back. Not wanting Hermione to see his blushing face, he said his good nights and headed up to his dorm.

Climbing up into the little alcove with the window, he stared up at the northern Lights again, the mirror in his hand. His father was still dead, but he had been there for some of his life, and he could still remember his mother's hugs as she let go of him this year at Platform 3/4. But he could also remember them not being there, like he had lived that life too.

“Harry? Harry you there, chief?” James said. Harry jumped to the mirror, a smile growing larger across his face.

“Yeah, dad, I'm here,” Harry said.

“You're right,” James said out of breath. “We're all fine.”

“I know,” Harry said. “I remember you being there, but I also remember you not. It's like I've lived two lives.” James's face darkened for a moment.

“I'm sorry son, that I, we couldn't be there for you,” James said. Harry shook his head, smiling.

“No, you were there for me now,” Harry said. An awkward silence surrounded them for a moment.

“So, tell me a bit about yourself? Got anybody?” James asked, causing him to blush.

“Yeah, kinda,” Harry said, running his hand through his hair.

“Well, who is she?” James asked again with a smirk.

“Its complicated Dad,” Harry said, sitting down in the alcove. “I like her; I think maybe I love her, but….”

“But what?” James said. “If you love her tell her. That what I did with you Mum, course took me about seventy times for it to work.” Harry could not help but share the smirk of his father.

“Its not that simple Dad,” Harry said. “She's been my best friend for almost seven years now. I don't want to risk it.”

“Son, life is not worth living if you don't take some risks,” James said.

“But what if those risks get the ones you love killed?” Harry asked quietly.

“What are you talking about?” James gave him a questioning look.

Harry began to slowly explain his last few years of his life at Hogwarts, from the Philosopher's Stone to the Department of Mysteries. He kept the tears at bay as he spoke of the last part, of how close he came to losing Hermione again this year. He spoke of her and Ron's, his other best friend, failed relationship. His father remained quiet through letting Harry do the most of the talking.

“Son, I don't know what to tell you. You've done all you can,” James said. “Tell her. That's all I can say because its up to you.” He nodded. Another awkward silence. “So….do you play Quidditch?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, discreetly wiping away his tears. “Youngest player on the House team in a century.”

“Really, you must have been a great Chaser,” James said, smirking. Harry could not help but laugh.

“No dad, I play Seeker,” Harry said. “I had a rough childhood.” His face was downcast for a moment, but he tried to hid it.

“I'm sorry son, for not being there again,” James said running a hand through his hair. “But I'm going to be there for you, I promise chief.”

“I know dad, I know,” Harry said, wiping away a tear. “Let me tell you about Quidditch, there is so much I want to tell you.” Harry relaxed as they traded stories. Even in this “new” life, his Quidditch had not changed. He still was the youngest player in a century for the Hogwarts. He still was the best, and Hermione still was his best friend.

As he finished his conversations with his father, he felt relaxed, more alive then he ever felt before. Clearing his mind of anything he did not love, he fell into the calmest sleep he had for more than a decade.

I0I

There was a flash of memories in the early morning, ones he had never known before. They were not of the “new” life that he had created for himself. Nor where they from his old. They were flashes of him, in his father's arms as they passed a large box. His father wore black, as did he, still a babe of no more than three.

Harry woke up with a shook, and torn open his curtains. The woman in the box was dead, this he knew and recognized, but it was not the woman he thought. “Normal” memories were that of Hermione's funeral or death. No, this coffin held one Lily Evans Potter in its grasp.

Looking at the picture on his left, he noticed it had changed. The picture was once of both him and his parents at the age of ten, before his father died. Now the picture was just of his father and himself, though his father looked distant, and lost. Shaking his head, the memories of past flooded back to him, but in a jumbled mess. Grabbing his album of photo's now filled with pictures, he flipped through them. His early years still had his mum, but beyond the age of three and the pictures of him were with his dad only.

“No,” Harry said. Breaking down in tears, he let the album fall to the floor. His mother was gone, as was his father. His parents were gone again. He barely noticed Hermione sticking her head through the dorm door, and he barely noticed her rushing to his side, knowing what was wrong before he did. All he felt was the pain of being alone disappear, if just until the sun rose…

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Chapter Three:

In these matters the only certainty is that nothing is certain. Pliny the Elder (23 AD - 79 AD)

Harry awoke to find himself in the Hospital wing, again. The mirror was still in his hand, and he felt someone gripping his other hand. There were new memories. His mother…she had died when he was three. Killed by Voldemort. His father had died of cancer at the same time, but their relationship had changed, they were distant. He was still a Gryffindor, thank the Lord for small favors. He turned to the side of the person gripping his hand.

“Hermione,” he said in a raspy voice. Her head shot up in surprise. He smiled lightly, happy knowing that she was still by his side.

“Harry, you're okay,” she said. She threw her arms around him in a tight hug, tears falling freely from her eyes. “Harry, what happened? Why do I think that you're mother is still alive, but she's not?” His eyes went wide in surprise.

“What?” Harry asked, sitting up. He pulled her onto the bed and she moved next to him, holding his hands this time.

“I know you're mum's dead Harry, but its like I can remember you tell me she's not dead and all, and meeting her for Christmas once,” Hermione said. Her voice sounded sad, and small like she was trying not to upset him. He wrapped his arms around her.

“I don't know why either Hermione, all I know is that part remembers when she was alive, and the other part…” His voice trailed off. He did not like to think of that possibility.

“Yes, there is much we need to discuss,” a voice from the past said as he walked in. Their former Headmaster, or the Headmaster from this time, was still alive.

“Professor Dumbledore?” Harry and Hermione asked together. He died though…killed by ex-Professor Snape.

“It seems that someone has been making contact with the past,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes, though his voice was anything but happy. Harry's eyes grew cold for a moment.

“What was I supposed to do, Professor? Let the one chance of talking to my father go!” He said, vehemently.

“I'm not saying I would have acted different in your situation, but it would have been better to think about what you were doing,” Dumbledore said, sitting down beside them.

“Sir, with all due respect,” Hermione said, making herself known, “I agree with Harry.” Harry looked at her, surprised that she would say this. She was the one who had been warned against time-traveling. They both knew the consequences of the actions reached far beyond what they could comprehend, but she agreed with him. Dumbledore let out a sigh.

“I fear that you conversations with your father may have effected more than just me,” Dumbledore said, handing Harry the photo album Hagrid gave him after his first year. Flipping through the pages, he could see the distance left between his father and himself. He sighed. “The Weasleys are no longer your friends, Harry and you are sad to say still the savior of the Wizarding World.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked.

“The Weasleys arestill in Gryffindor, however, Mister Weasley resents you even more, despite your friendship with Hermione. Two have remained in Gryffindor,” he said to them. “Harry you are still Head Boy, however Hermione, you no longer are Head Girl.”

“What?” Both of them said in surprise. “Who is?” Hermione managed to get out. Dumbledore put his face down. Harry put an arm around her, trying to calm her down a bit. She let out a sigh, and took his other hand in hers, relaxing.

“Lavender Brown, her father managed to….” The headmaster's voice trailed off. He seemed to change direction at this point. “Muggleborn children receive very little support here at Hogwarts, as per the governors' choice. They voted upon this and have decided that they will be segregated from the remainder of the students, and penalties are stiffer for them. Though, one child has manage to fight for them for so long. Your father would have been proud of you. Sirius is.”

“Sirius is still alive?” He asked, surprised. There was just too much to take. “Wait, Professor, how do you know what is going on and we don't?”

“Only those with vital parts to play in the timeline will remember changes, it was how I remembered the change you did with Sirius in your original third year.” He said with a twinkle in his eyes.

“Sir, are there any books about this?” Hermione asked. He nodded and conjured it, handing it to Harry.

“I'm sorry Miss Granger, but they would know if you were holding this,” Dumbledore said, his eyes downcast.

“How?” Both Harry and Hermione asked at the same time. Dumbledore pointed toward a bracelet upon her ankle. The design showed the magical properties. It held no binding powers, other than preventing it from being removed, but it was more for tracking then anything else.

“They put it on you as soon as you enter Hogwarts, and they never remove it,” Dumbledore said with sadness in his eyes. “Though, I do believe it does not prevent you from reading it along with someone Hermione.” He said, eyeing the two of them. “I believe it is best if you return to you room Harry, take Hermione with you.” Grabbing his mirror, Harry nodded. He looked toward Hermione, knowing she was trying to be strong

“You can stay with me tonight,” he said to her quietly as they left. She nodded, and they continued down the hallway. Moving toward the Head Boy's room, he found the door was already open. With caution, he entered the room, his wand raised, Hermione stayed close behind him, the fear of the new world getting to her more.

“What are you doing with HER!?” A voice screamed. Harry cast a spell quickly silencing both the room and the woman before her.

“I believe the question is what are you doing in my room,” He said, his memories of this world coming to him quickly. Lavender Brown, whore of men and women alike, was still attempting to snag him in bed. “Get out of here before I alert the Headmaster.” He snarled at Lavender before removing the spell.

“What is she doing here, you know they are not allowed in our dorms,” she glared at Hermione, who returned in. In one swift movement, though there was a slap across Hermione's face, causing her to crumple to the floor. Harry grabbed Lavender by the hand, violently throwing her away.

“Try that again, and I'll have my godfather remove you from your position,” he said. Sirius Black, in this time line, was cleared of all charges, and one of the most influential governors, despite his stance on freedoms for Muggleborns. It was one of the reasons Harry was able to fight for their rights so much. That and the Voldemort thing. None of that mattered to him though. Not now, no one hit his friend. “Now, get the bloody hell out of my room.” Lavender ran, spooked beyond belief, but that was no longer important to him. Helping Hermione up off floor, he brought her into a hug, as she began to cry.

“I don't know what's wrong with me Harry,” she said into his chest. “I mean, I feel like I'm back in my sixth year, and I'm trying to get Ron to like me again.” She cried, and he recalled that. She had stopped being herself in his original sixth year, when she wanted Ron to go out with her. When Ron finally worked up the balls to do so, she was back to her normal self and he had fallen in love with a façade. “I'm just so emotional right now.” She said, wiping off some of her tears with her hand.

Their sixth year had been tough on them all. Everyone was trying to move back to a normal life, a normal life that never existed. Even Harry tried to find an escape, and felt his abilities suffer because of it. When you deny who you are, you deny your destiny, he was told at the beginning of his seventh year. He understood that then, and he still understood that now..

“I think you can afford a few emotional days Hermione,” he said to her. “People change, different lives, different paths we take. But what strikes me as odd is that my life has been drastically changed not once, but three times in the past, and yet you remain here. With me.”

“I told you last year that I wasn't going to abandon you Harry,” she said to him softly. “And I don't intend to let time get in my way.” She spoke strongly, and with a great deal more emotion then when she was crying.

“That's my Hermione,” he said, causing her to giggle. Which was odd. She never giggled, only last year. Well it was only last year, now it was several lifetimes away. “Let's find you something to wear to bed.”

“Harry I should tell you this, and I figure its best if you know now,” she said, as if finally aware of it. “Ron and I are dating, in this timeline, and its working out pretty well.”

“Oh,” was all he managed to say. To say he was surprised, was to say that he was thrilled with the idea. After all, if the world wants to screw with Harry Potter's heart, there were more than one ways to go about it. “We're still friends?”

“Yeah,” she said, moving over to him. “But I don't think I want to be with Ron anymore.” She said, tears in her eyes. “My god, I don't know what I want….” She fell into sobs, and this time, Harry knew he could not help her. Going to his room, he changed into his pajama bottoms before bringing down the shirt. She was composing herself and gave him a small smile.

“Thank you, I needed that,” she said.

“It helps to cry sometimes,” he gave her a smile. “Here, you can wear this tonight and take the bed. I'll sleep down here.” Her eyes went wide for a moment, shaking her head.

“Harry, this is your room, you should take your bed,” she said, holding his shirt close to her chest. He turned back to see her smell it lightly, or he thought she sniffed it, which was followed by a content smile.

“Which is why you're taking the bed,” he said guiding her in the direction of the stairs. She stopped at the foot of the stairs.

“Fine, we'll share it,” she said. “You seem so against me sleeping on the couch, and I the same for you, so we'll share it.” Harry felt his eyes go wide. “What Harry?”

“Nothing,” shaking his head to rid himself of such thoughts. “Are you sure?” he asked. “I mean I'm more than willing to take the couch.”

“Only if you intend to share it with me,” she said sternly. A worse plan, at best. “I will not take that bed if you are sleeping upon that couch.”

“What about a different couch, I mean I could easily-”

“Harry!” she said. “Is sharing a bed with me that horrible?” She asked in a small voice, and he turned his gaze back upon her. Here was a person lost in her own world. Gathering her in a hug, he felt her relax.

“No, its just, I don't know,” he said in a sigh. “I guess we can, but I don't want to touch anything I'm not supposed to, and I feel like I'm invading your private space.” Her blush joined his rather quickly.

“You won't touch anything that I don't want you to, and if you do its called an accident,” she said through her blush.

“Okay,” he managed to get out. “I think I can handle that.” He gave her a small smile. “You sure its okay?” He asked once more, only to get a scolding look and a point. “Sorry.” He ran up the stairs quickly followed by the sounds of her giggling. He could not help but smile at this.

His room had not changed, that much he was thankful for. His bed held a huge blanket with the marauders, minus Wormtail, on them. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Harry ran his hand over the blanket, smiling lightly.

“Your mum made that,” Hermione said, sitting down on the other side. It was not a question, they both knew the answer. Whenever Harry felt alone, he would huddle up inside it, and it was almost like she was hugging him. He gave her a sad smile, before pulling back the blanket.

Hermione gave him a smile before falling into the bed and onto the pillow, a content smile on her face as she closed her eyes. “Its smiles just like you.” She muttered. Harry gave her a odd look, but did not say anything as he climbed into the bed. The lights dimmed immediately, as per the charm he had placed upon it.

He lay on his side, and waited for Hermione to do the same, she did. “I don't understand it, Hermione, I don't.”

“Harry, you changed the past, there had to be repercussions because of it,” she said to him, touching his cheek lightly.

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” he muttered, causing her to smile.

“Harry, you can't go around changing the past,” she said, smilingly slightly. “Time wasn't meant to be altered.”

“But there are time turners Hermione, we already changed the past once before this all happened,” he said to her. “Nothing ever that drastic happened.”

“Because we changed an event only a few hours old then Harry. This event was several years old, and drastic. You saved your parents life, if only for a short time, they lived with you and you felt loved.”

“But I don't feel any different Hermione, I always thought I'd turn out different if I grew up with them.” He lay back and stared at the ceiling, with surprise surprise, was stars, something similar to his old Headboy room. Hermione moved over and lay on his chest, hugging his side. He stiffened, both below and above the belt at the contact, but relaxed, slightly, after a while.

“Thank you Harry,” Hermione whispered to him. Before he had a chance to ask “what for” she had fallen asleep, curled up on him. Kissing her forehead, he rescinded to the fate with a smile on his face as he too fell asleep. He would talk to his father the first thing in the morning, after the researched what had happened.

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