Hey guys! Because I've recently started to take a liking to Hermione time traveling fics (don't ask me why, please) and decided to try to test the Hermione-Sirius waters (lol). Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. I'll try to update in at least a fortnight (two weeks) each time, but it might be that there's a month's break between chapters. Just to warn you, ahaha. Also, if you're interested in the story and might want to continue reading, may I suggest reading the AU's both at the top and bottom of the page? They'll contain information about the story.

P.s. – I plan on making this fic a bit more lengthy than the others, which is the reason for the lack of updates (no… of course I'm not talking about the fact that I'm a lazy ass).

Chapter One

By no means were John and Olivia Viennere ready for the news that awaited them in the doctor's office. It had been raining all day, and the couple had rushed to the clinic panicked because they were late.

"What do you mean you can't hear its heart beat?" Asked John.

Deep down, he knew perfectly well what this meant – after all, he was a highly accomplished scientist. He and Olivia, a pretty brunette with striking caramel eyes, had met two years previously when she was introduced as his new assistant. Olivia claimed it had been love at first sight (after all, it had been proven that a person could fall in love in a fraction of a second), but due to protocol, they couldn't formally start a relationship. When they were finally cleared to date (they had gone and gotten it checked up with the board) they had already been secretly courting and were ready to marry. After only a couple months of a happy life, it was shown that they were expecting.

But now it felt like their world was crashing down. They had just moved into a larger house, in the wealthy-off neighborhood two blocks away from Spinner's End. In fact, Olivia's hair curly locks were still flecked with yellow paint from the nursery they had been painting.

"Surely you've made a mistake," said Olivia shrilly, "I'm perfectly healthy and I've been keeping up with all the requirements – I've even started listening to Bach with it!"

The doctor, a greying man in his early fifties with stern eyes, sighed sympathetically. He told them that they were still young, and that they had plenty of time. But he could see the woman start to panic, and knew that a troublesome first miscarriage was almost always near-impossible to recover from.

"Adoption is another option," he said, not unkindly.

Olivia started to sob, because she felt that it wouldn't be the same. Her more logical side reasoned that her motherly instincts would kick in, but her hormonal side argued that it wouldn't. They thanked the doctor bitterly and hurried out the front door, apologizing to the various glowing couples they bumped into during their haste.

Outside it was still raining, and the two Vienneres shivered in their long woolen jackets. Olivia re-wrapped her scarf around her neck and ears, and was most certainly glad she did so. For with the scarf muffling out any sounds from the outside world, she would have probably never heard the weak cry of a child. She stopped in her tracks and that day, the first week of May, 1960, the day she and her husband realized that she had miscarried, she found a beautiful baby girl in a cardboard box, with nothing more than a light blanket covering her. The baby had dark tufts of brown hair plastered to her face, with large brown intelligent eyes. Upon closer inspection, the couple realized that the eyes were more of a hazel, and Olivia recognized immediately that both her eyes and that of the infant were the same.

"John, John," she cried, motioning to her husband, who had not noticed anything amiss yet.

When he arrived by his wife's side, he cursed loudly. He unzipped his coat and covered the baby with it, who, in response to the soft fabric, calmed a bit and actually cooed.

"We've got to get her to the clinic, Oli!" he exclaimed.

They were still relatively close to where they had received the world shattering news, and they both realized that the mother of the baby or whoever else had left it here, meant for it to be found. The day had started out nice enough, and the clouds had only started rolling in minutes before the pair had left their new home. They rushed back to the clinic, demanding that the same doctor come again. The receptionist at the front desk had glared at them imploringly in the beginning, but she did a double take after she saw the moving bundle. The same doctor as before came to hurriedly greet them at the door, and he immediately checked the child's vital signs and whatnot. Due to their rich academic backgrounds, both John and Olivia, much to the elderly man's chagrin, decided that they should best do it themselves. Flashing their ID badges quickly, they set to work. The infant was healthy enough, except she was yawning wildly, as if to say, 'I'm tired. Can we go home now?' Olivia giggled, and the two scientists stayed with the baby until well into the evening.

Every day for a month the girl, who remained nameless but was called 'Sunny' by her care-takers, was visited at the clinic by Olivia and John. They would stay two or three hours each visit, showering the infant with kisses each time they got paged to work. But finally, they were allowed to take her home. Of course, it had led to a big discussion in the beginning; John thought she didn't want to adopt, but Olivia was finally to convince him.

"We're taking you home now, Sunny," said John as he held the gurgling baby in his arms.

"Oh John," said Olivia, "She has a name now. Hermione Viennere, the perfect baby."

John laughed and agreed. He was just as uncertain now as his wife had been before they had found Hermione, though, for he didn't think himself capable. He was a scientist – the kind that little children exchanged stories of. He lightly wondered what made it different now that he was adopting and when Olivia was pregnant when he realized that now he had a choice, and that scared him because, what if he made the wrong one? But he looked once more at their new daughter, and as soon as he caught sight of her curly brown locks he knew he didn't have to be afraid anymore, because both his girls were perfect.

Raising Hermione to be the six year old she currently was hadn't been easy. She had been an easy baby, almost never crying, but as soon as she had been old enough to walk, she started wreaking havoc. She had been read to, of course, from classics and the college text books on science her adoptive father had written, but it never seemed to be enough for her. The high point in John's life had been, however, when she picked up his classic violin and gently pat the strings. Originally both he and Olivia had decided on raising her to be the average female, without any of the pressure of the academic society on her, but the girl was just begging for it. So she learned to read better than people four times her age by the time she was three, and by the age of four she was already composing violin pieces to go with all the elements of the periodic table. She had always been ignored, which she didn't really seem to mind, but it worried her parents a bit too much. So instead of sticking to the normal plan for having an average daughter, they strived to create a prodigy. They sent her to summer camps for sports and music (she had been sent home from the first because, apparently, she had made something explode), paid for arts lessons and everything. The Vienneres never had a child of their own blood, so they made every moment with Hermione count. This was shown clearly when Hermione had her nightly nightmares. They were always the same, and though they highly doubted this, both John and Olivia suspected that she had lived up to some sort of trauma before she was found.

"There was a man without a nose," Hermione would sob each morning, "like a snake, and he took me from a woman who's crying."

She would always wake up after that part, but Hermione never felt like she needed to see more, though her parents always made her feel a little safer. So it didn't come as a surprise when Hermione was left alone for a night, because her Auntie Rossum was doing unwell and was sent to the hospital, that she was taking a nap and had the same horrific dream. Without anyone to soothe her, though, she was at loss for what to do and ran out the door. Normally she wouldn't have done that, for even as a six year old she had been exceptionally bright and rational. But without her parents to tell her that she was alright and that nobody could hurt her, she just bolted. With her mass of brown curls flying behind her pale pajama-clad frame, she looked like such a strange sight. But the Vienneres were usually viewed quite strange, what with their fancy jobs and porches filled to the brim with bookshelves full of science tomes out for everyone to borrow. Panting heavily, Hermione reached the school playground and curled up into a ball in the sand box. It was spring break, and most of the children had left town for some more exotic place in England.

"Are you alright?"

Hermione looked up and saw two girls, roughly the same age as her. One, the shortest, had long red hair and brilliant almond shaped green eyes. The other girl couldn't have been more different from her companion; she had an abnormally long neck with features that slightly resembled a horse, with a matching mane of dull brown to boot. It had been the second, the one who resembled a horse, who had spoken.

"I need not to be bullied tonight," said Hermione.

Both girls glanced at each other subtly.

"We're not here to bully you, silly," chirped the other girl.

Hermione recognized her from school, as they were both in the same class. This was Lily Evans, who every boy gave flowers to and every girl giggled with.

"I'm Petunia, and this is my younger sister Lily," said the older one with authority.

Hermione rubbed her face against the thick woolen sweater she was wearing. It was already October and a thin layer of frost constantly coated the roof tops and window panes.

"I'm Hermione," she sniffed.

The two Evans girls beamed down at their newly acquired friend. Hermione stood up and dusted herself off.

"Do you want to see a trick?" Asked Lily suddenly.

She looked so eager that Hermione, who did not believe in 'tricks', couldn't deny her. Excited, the little red-head picked up a daisy, even though Petunia protested vehemently. Hermione, who was patiently waiting for her companion to twirl the daisy so that all the leaves fell off, gasped when it spun upward instead of downward, like she had expected. Both she and Petunia watched in amazement as the dainty little flower flew around them like a little spaceship.

"How do you do that?" asked both Petunia and Hermione at the same time.

"It's a secret," replied Lily, clasping her hands behind her back and swaying to and fro on the balls of her feet.

"I want to try," cried little Hermione.

Grinning, Lily gave the flower, which had landed deftly in her hands again, to her newest companion. She had shown only her parents and Petunia her little trick before, and it had been met with relative success from them. She was delighted to see that it had gone just as well with Hermione. However, with Hermione it would do nothing. No matter how much the little frizzy-haired six year-old tried, the flower wouldn't budge.

Taking pity, Lily instructed, "Think that you are the flower. That you're the one who's going to fly. That's what I do!"

Hermione thought about all the things she considered to be connected to flying; freedom and lightness, wings and weight. So concerned was she about what flying was, that she didn't notice that the little flower was already lazily floating around the trio.

"Why, Wh-why, you did it!" hollered Petunia, "You actually did it!"

With a start, the flower dropped, and Hermione was sad that she hadn't gotten to see her work clearly. But before she could try again, Petunia had picked up the flower from where it had fallen on the ground, and was fiercely telling herself that she was 'flyingflyingflying', to no avail. The daisy wouldn't budge, just like it had done with Hermione in the beginning.

"Hermione," said Lily eventually, "would you like to come to dinner with us? Mum always makes extra!"

Pouting, Petunia agreed, and the three made their way to the Evan's house. It wasn't all too far away from Hermione's, maybe two minutes walking slowly. It was a pretty, modest two story structure, with large flowers (petunias) furnishing any empty space and giving off a welcoming, sweet odor. Standing up on her tip toes, a ten year-old Petunia reached for the doorbell and rung twice. From inside the house, the three girls could hear muffled footsteps coming. They weren't hurried, necessarily, but rather like they were dancing along to a jazzy beat.

"Mum's probably dancing," explained a gap-toothed Lily, "its Sinatra week. You know Frank Sinatra, right? Well, anyway, next week it's the Beatles week. We have each once a year."

"Yup," said Petunia, all traces of disappointment from earlier gone, "Last week it was the Rolling Stones. We're not allowed to listen to any other type of music from any other artist during that time. It's actually really fun!"

Hermione didn't doubt it. Though she had heard of all these people, she never really felt the need to listen to them while she had Beethoven and Mozart on her side. She had heard of the Beatles, of course, but with the others she was less acquainted. Hermione bit on her lip with two slightly overlarge teeth, getting more nervous by the second. What if she was sent home? Her parents wouldn't be back till ten, and that was still another four hours away. The thought of having to stay in that big house all alone was nerve wracking. She didn't feel guilty in the slightest, though, because even though she didn't lock the door behind her, there hadn't been a burglary in nearly thirty years.

The door opened with a swing, and a pretty woman said, "Hello, dears, you're actually on time today!"

The woman was possibly in her late thirties or early forties, but she had a bright smile and vivid red hair that made her seem almost ten years younger. Behind her arrived a slightly awkward looking man in his mid-forties, who nevertheless smiled when he saw his daughters.

"I see you've brought a friend," he said, running a hand through his greying hair impulsively.

The Evans family was a close-knit family, and they never denied each other anything. They were the perfect, picturesque ideal looking relatives, and Hermione wanted nothing more than to be part of them, because they seemed too amazing to be real. Besides, she had always wanted siblings.

"May I please call my parents, Mrs. Evens?" Hermione asked quietly.

Laura Evans (nee Bulerry) grinned down at the little girl. She was reminded of a young Gilbert Evans.

"Of course honey. Where are they?" She asked.

"They're at the hospital," replied Hermione monotonously.

Mr. Evans's voice wafted from the kitchen, "Are they okay?" he asked.

Hermione nodded. It wasn't them that had landed in the hospital; it had been her aunt. Auntie Rossum was a stubborn seventeen year-old that was not half as kind as her sister. In fact, Hermione had always gotten the feeling that she was resented by her aunt, because Olivia and John spent more time doting on their daughter instead of her. Still, there had been moments when they had all been a family together, and Hermione was sad that one so young stuck in a hospital because of cancer.

"They caught it quite early, though," confided Hermione to the Evans family, "So there's a high chance that she'll be alright."

Tsk, tsk, went Laura. It was more of a pitiful sort of sound. As a mother, she felt obligated to ask when they'd return, and Hermione said they'd be back around ten.

"You'll just have to stay with us then, until they come back," Said Mr. Granger.

Both Petunia and Lily agreed whole-heartedly, and Hermione couldn't help but grin approvingly.

"Mum, Dad, you wouldn't believe what I'm about to tell you," said Lily while they were munching on deliciously baked shepherd's pie.

"'Mione can do the trick, too!" she said.

Mr. Evans almost choked on his food as he processed what his youngest said.

"Really, darling?" Asked Mrs. Evans.

Petunia nodded sullenly.

"It's nothing special, I'm sure," said Hermione uncertainly, "There must be a reasonable explanation for it. My parents would certainly be able to find it!"

Mr. Evans agreed readily, but his wife was a bit more skeptical. The rest of the dinner was spent eating cheerfully while listening to Frank Sinatra singing Fly Me to the Moon, and by the end of the meal Hermione was more content than she had ever been. Petunia and Lily, too, were as content as Hermione, for they had finally found a friend they really wanted to hang out with. So content were the three that they almost fell asleep in their dining room chairs! So one by one Mr. Evans carried the children to the living room couch and put a warm blanket over them. Both parents were extremely relieved that Lily wasn't the only one who could do 'the trick'. And if such a smart girl like Hermione wasn't worrying, they wouldn't, either; in fact, they'd embrace it as some sort of a genius thing.

It was around eleven that the Vienneres arrived at their doorstep to pick up Hermione, but they were so tired that they almost collapsed on the Evans' household doorstep. John especially was a big fan of Sinatra, so when Mr. Evans offered them a glass of red wine over one of his best albums, they couldn't refuse.

"We have a spare bedroom, you know," said Laura.

Both she and Olivia had taken an immediate liking to each other, and Olivia felt forever in her debt for helping her daughter.

"Oh yes, stay," said Gilbert, "Hermione is already sleeping, and it would be cruel to wake her up now that she's sleeping so soundly."

Olivia was doubtful, but when she saw how peaceful her daughter was – without the nightmares, too – she caved in.

"Al right, then… just this one time," she said.

They all cleaned up, laughing as they did so. Never before had the Vienneres had such a good night with what they considered to be friends, and never had the Evans's been so challenged. So that one night turned into once a month, and they even took vacations together, watching on as their children grew into bright, happy beings. It didn't go unnoticed that Hermione and Lily were exceptionally smart and witty, and they became near inseparable. But as great as they were, they were just as strange; accidents started happening around them, the most drastic being when Hermione, after having been teased by the Dursley siblings, woke up with normal sized teeth instead of her larger ones. Though her parents had been distressed, she had been happy and more confident.

The two families were so close, even, that they spent holidays together. It was one fateful New Year's Eve spent in the Viennere household, the very first day of 1970, that the Vienneres got a call from the hospital. It was soon made clear that Hermione's Auntie Rossum, now a booming twenty-year old, was dying. Olivia rushed to put her coat back on, and urged her husband to do the same so they could be by her sister's side.

"I don't want her to die all alone," she cried desperately.

She was in such a state of shock that she couldn't properly do her coat buttons, and her husband had to do it for her. Everybody knew that they couldn't protest, even though the roads were icy. Hermione was to stay home because one so young must never encounter death, as her father put it. They left too hastily to say goodbye.

By this point, the Evans family knew the way around their friend's house like they had lived there themselves. Dinner had already been put on the stove, and they just had to heat it up a bit. They were in the middle of eating chicken with potatoes from the oven when the phone rang.

"Excuse me," said Hermione morosely.

Everyone was sure to keep a slight dark feel to the dinner, so it was appropriate to the dying family member.

"Is this the Viennere household?" Asked a deep male voice from the other side of the line.

Hermione bit her lip and said, "This is Hermione Viennere speaking."

The voice talking to her on the phone was drab; almost cruelly cold as the man told her that he was 'sorry but [her] parents had died in a car accident'. Hermione scoffed, but Mr. Evans came up to her and asked who she was talking to.

"A man says Mum and Dad have died – but that's not possible; they weren't in the hospital. Auntie Rossum was."

Mr. Evans frowned and took over the phone. There was a lot of head nodding and grunts of understanding involved, and by then everybody, including the ten year old Lily, had understood that there was something wrong. It wasn't till half an hour later that Mr. Evans came back and announced that Hermione was now the last living Viennere. Mrs. Evans understood immediately and started sobbing, whereas Hermione just sat at the table with her mouth hanging open. Without any warning, she bolted upstairs and would not come out for two weeks.

After two months of mourning, life had started to regain some normalcy for Hermione. Her studies went well; she threw herself into her scientific learning in honor of her parents. On that note, talking about the two deceased Vienneres was a big no-no. Whenever someone – a teacher, a friend or even one of her parent's old colleagues – wanted to relive memories with her, she would shut down and fumble with her hands in a distracted manor. The school thought she was going mad, but Laura Evans, now fast approaching her mid-forties, knew that it was not like that.

"I'm afraid," confessed Hermione to Lily, Petunia and their mother one day.

She was looking at them baking that night's dessert (a delicious chocolate pie) when she finally opened up. She hadn't really talked since the night of the deaths. Since then, the Evans family had basically adopted her into their household.

"Of what are you afraid of, dear?" Asked Laura carefully.

Petunia stayed silent, not willing to be the one that broke Hermione. Lily, on the other hand, was almost on the verge of pushy when it came to her best friend opening up to her. At times, Hermione found it comforting that someone was trying so hard.

"I'm afraid that I'm going to die alone, just like my parents were alone, and just like Auntie Rossum did. I still wonder – did she ask herself why there was no one beside her to be strong and brave and that everything and everyone will be alright? Sometimes I just wish I had died with them all," cried Hermione.

Lily jutted out her bottom lip in an attempt not to start sobbing. Wasn't the whole point of Hermione not going with her parents to the hospital that she wouldn't be acquainted with death? Lily had never hated anyone before in her young life, but now she couldn't help but feel immense dislike for the parents who had left their child with nothing but a large inheritance.

And a large inheritance it was; of course, with the cost of three extravagant funerals subtracted from it, it would reduce slightly depending on the extravagance, but it was still a large amount of money that would be kept by lawyers until Hermione became eighteen. She would be given a monthly allowance of 32 British pounds from her newly acquired fortune, and a weekly allowance of ten pounds from the Evans family, on their insistence. That would amount to seventy-two British pounds per month twelve months a year, and that was to increase steadily each year. But that was of no matter to Hermione, who saw it as a restriction to what she was able to do and to what she wasn't. She made a mental note to apply to the ice-cream shop with Lily coming summer.

Lily, seeing how Hermione was lost in thought, exclaimed that they should all go to the park. Everyone in the kitchen agreed readily, as none of them had seen much sun lately. They all bounded up to their rooms (Hermione would, from now on, have to share Lily's until she was able to legally move in to her old house, which her parents had also left her). There they dressed in shorts and baggy tee-shirts, as by this time it was already mid-February. Hermione had been mourning for two months already.

Running to the park, Hermione, Lily and Petunia laughed like maniacs. Each taking a swing, they grinned from ear to ear as they swung their legs to and fro with all the vigor their age provided them with. For a moment, all three had forgotten their sorrows of losing friends and family. It was about an hour later that they had tired from the swings and settled themselves down on the rubber paving of the playground. It was uncomfortably hot, but no one seemed to really mind it. Sitting down with tired, aching legs, Hermione withdrew herself again and Lily, who was slightly hurt from the lack of conversation and the silence that followed her attempts to start it. Then she got an idea. Now that she was on a mission, she left her fourteen year old sister and her withdrawn best friend to go pick some wild flowers. She didn't find any daisies, so she had to settle on a sprig of lavender. She held it up to Hermione, who stared at it as if it were something from outer space.

"Make it fly Hermione. Come on, feel like you're flying!"

Hermione did as she did the first time; she thought of things that she connected to the idea of flying. And as she did so, she felt herself getting lighter and lighter, as if she was shedding a heavy, ragged skin. Lily and Petunia saw it too, and even Petunia grinned in content when she saw her best friend smile blissfully. It wasn't until Hermione actually floated above the ground that she became worried.

"HERMIONE, get down," exclaimed the girl shrilly.

Lily was looking on in glee as her friend was showing them a magnificent trick. She closed her eyes and, by sheer will, managed to raise herself a couple of inches. Ten minutes later, Petunia had gotten them all safely on the ground, and was panting with the effort of it all.

"H-how did you do that?" She asked.

"It's because they're witches," said someone.

Fearful that they had been caught, the trio turned around to see a tall, lanky boy around their age. He had a crooked nose and greasy hair that came to his shoulders with black, piercing eyes to match it. His thin lips were pressed together in concentration, but Hermione had to look away because even looking at him, dressed in a thick black overcoat and baggy pants, was too hot for this type of stifling weapon.

"What do you mean, witches? It's rude to call someone a witch," said Petunia.

"No – not you; you're just a muggle," replied the boy.

Hermione noted that there was a slight nasal tone to his voice. Petunia scoffed and crossed her arms.

"Hey, I know who you are," said Petunia spitefully, "you're that Snape boy from Spinner's End!"

She laughed as if to accent that this boy was trouble. Spinner's End the street where the less wealthy lived, the complete opposite from where Hermione, Lily and Petunia came from.

"What do you mean with 'witches'? Like the ones from fairy tales and advertisements?" Asked Hermione.

She didn't particularly like how many of the witches were portrayed in the fairy tales, and the advertisements selling insurance made them seem all silly and girly and just not wicked enough.

"Well," began the Snape boy excitedly, "It means we're magical – how old are you two?"

"We're both ten," said Lily shyly.

They'd both be eleven in August, and it was all she and Hermione had talked about three months prior.

"Then I think you'll be getting your Hogwarts letters soon," he said confidently.

Petunia had decided that she had enough of it.

"Rubbish," she exclaimed, "There's no such things as witches and wizards. My sisters and I will be leaving now!"

Originally Hermione would've protested (learning about cults had always been interesting), but she was extremely pleased that Petunia, who was hard to impress even throughout their years of friendship, had called her their sister. Lily was also unsure, but Petunia was her older sister and thus she was revered. Biting her lip, Hermione smiled at the boy before leaving with her newly found 'sisters'.

June brought surprises to everyone. Hermione had always been an early riser, being preceded only by Laura, who, on the second Saturday of the month, woke the whole house with a scream.

"I-i-i-t's an owl! A bloody OWL! What the hell is a bloody owl doing at our window, Gilbert? WHAT. IS. IT. DOING?" She exclaimed when everybody had crowded in the kitchen.

It was no secret that Laura Evans was deathly afraid of birds. As she saw it, they had multiple advantages that she did not, and that there was no real place to hide from them. They could fly, while she could not. They had sharp, shiny beaks, another thing she didn't have. Not to mention that they always left a mess of excrement and feathers behind. In a moment of rash boldness, Lily dashed forward to shoo the offending creature away. But the owl, instead of flying away like a normal bird, pecked the glass again and held up its claw, staring expressionlessly at the family members' one at a time.

"Why, look," called Petunia, "It's holding letters!"

Lily let out a snort of laughter, and Hermione studied the bird intently. It wasn't like a carrier pigeon, which the people of old times sometimes trained to send letters short ways. So what could it be, she asked herself? The only real way to figure it out was to test it, and so she made her way to the window, much to her new guardian's protests.

"So, Owl," she said slowly, "What do you have for us today?"

Her voice was smooth and sweet, or at least how much so children of her age could manipulate their voice to sound so. Petunia and Lily watched in rapt fascination, and the youngest sibling hid behind the eldest. The owl cocked its head and stuck out its leg, moving it a bit so that the letters jingled from their perch. Hermione gingerly took the letters with all the gentleness she could muster, her hair frizzing with determination. After she had safely removed the letters, the owl hooted softly and nuzzled her hand affectionately. From behind the scene, Mrs. Evans almost shrieked.

"There's one addressed to both of us," said Hermione, motioning to two separate envelopes.

Gingerly, before her parents could reply, Lily snatched hers up and sped back towards Petunia. The letters were addressed to them in green ink, and on them their exact location. Both girls opened them eagerly, where they read:

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order if Merlin, First Class, Grand Src,, Chg. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Hermione Viennere,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Hermione frowns and turns the page quickly. Out of the corner of her eyes she sees Lily read it softly out loud to her parents. The second page was a mere list of outrageous sounding items.

UNIFORM:

First-year students will require:

Three sets of plain work robes (black)

One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags.

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)

By Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic

By Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory

By Adalbert Waffling

A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration

By Emeric Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi

By Phyllida Spore

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

By Newton Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection

By Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 Wand

Pewter, standard size 2

1 Set glass or crystal phials

1 Telescope

1 set of Brass scales

Students may also bring, if they desire, an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICK

Yours sincerely,

Lucinda Thomsonicle-Pocus

Hermione waited for the others to finish reading aloud. While they did so, Hermione noticed the owl was starting to get agitated. She grabbed a scone from a breakfast plate and crumbled it onto a napkin, where the owl enthusiastically pecked at it before hooting a goodbye and flying off. Hermione was watching it fly off, looking at the wing movements and which way it turned when Petunia giggled.

"Oh, how silly," she exclaimed with all the certainty of one her age.

"Oh hush, Tuney," said her mother in a reprimanding tone.

"But it is silly, Mum," replied Petunia.

She giggled some more, but she quieted down when she saw the cogs in Hermione's mind working.

"It makes sense," said Hermione, "sort of."

Mr. Evans wrinkled his nose in confusion. What made sense? But Mrs. Evans also caught on, and Lily soon afterwards.

"All of the strange things that have happened – my teeth, the flowers, us," continued Hermione, "can all be explained by the simple fact that we're not normal. Before this was thought of as worrisome, and maybe even harmful. Like we were freaks or something."

Lily and her parents made sounds of protest, but Petunia bit her lips guiltily, as if she had been thinking those thoughts exactly.

"But if there are more of us…?" asked Lily hopefully.

"If there are more of us, I think I can hypothesize that we are mutations. The good kind, mind you, the kind that scientists will talk about in the future, because we, in essence, are the future."

No one said anything. It all made so much sense while still being utterly confusing, but everybody got the message clearly:

Lily and Hermione weren't freaks. They were prodigies.

"It still sounds fishy to me," said Petunia after a while of impressive silence.

Her tone was short and clipped, like it became when she was jealous. Behind their eldest daughter's back, Laura and Gilbert exchanged glances. They always believed that their youngest and her best friend were higher than average, but this seemed a bit crazy, even though they hated to admit it. Just then, there came a knocking from the door. Laura hesitantly went to answer it, not knowing if she should answer or play the old 'no one's here' trick. She decided to answer it.

She was assaulted with the sight of a sluggish man, with small, jovial eyes and a large grin plastered on his face. He wore old-fashioned trousers, a tweed jacket and a monocle that seemed too serious for his friendly face.

"How do you do, madam," he said, 'My name is Professor Horace Slughorn, part of the Hogwarts staff!"

He took the silence on the other end of a door as an invite and squeezed himself in, apologizing anytime he bumped against something. His frame took up the entire hallway, and accidentally knocked over the plastic umbrella stand. This lead to his trying to pick it back up, which started a chain reaction of breaking furniture.

"Do you wish for something to drink, Professor?" Asked Hermione respectfully.

As a professor, she found he must be treated with the utmost care and respect, as if he were a prized fragile sculpture.

"No thank you my dear," he chuckled.

When everybody was settled down, Lily and Hermione on the ground with crossed legs, Slughorn began speaking.

"Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago, and it is now one of the finest schools in the Wizarding world – due, partially, to the excellent teaching skills, of course."

Lily raised a skeptical eyebrow but Hermione gasped in delight.

"On behalf of the teaching staff, we'd like for both Hermione and Lily to enroll for the next seven years, which is how long education lasts in our world. This would be a bit difficult, of course; your children wouldn't be able to perform magic in front of muggles – non magic folk – without risk of expulsion from the school and Wizarding society. This rule can be bended when the student is in danger yadiyadiyadi, it will all be taught to your children at Hogwarts. Any questions?"

Hermione raised her hand, forgetting that she was not at school. Slughorn straightened and called on her, nodding in encouragement.

"Sir, what makes us different from the… er… muggles?"

Slughorn scratched the side of his face and looked at Hermione for a second or two.

"The difference is, my dear, that we can do magic."

Hermione's face soured a bit, as if she had sucked on a fresh lemon.

"Naturally, sir – but what gives us the ability to perform in the place of others? Is there a mutation in our DNA sequence? I already thought that, but I wasn't sure at all!"

Slughorn frowned and took a piece of paper from his pocket. He sighed when he read what was on it.

"You must be Hermione Viennere, the daughter of the late Viennere scientists."

Hermione nodded impatiently. From next to her, Lily giggled at the sight of her friend, whose hair was frizzing all over the place.

"Yes, well," said Slughorn after a small hesitation, "that shall all be explained at the school itself. A bit of mystery never did anyone wrong, did it?"

Hermione sulkily calmed down and replied with a soft 'I suppose not'. Both Laura and Gilbert asked a few more questions, and with each passing moment, the three children could see that they were being won over. Petunia watched on gravely as Lily whispered something in Hermione's ears secretively, making the other girl giggle.

The Professor stayed for another fifteen minutes, assuring the family that the girls would be perfectly safe. He spoke of Hogwarts like it was the most prestigious and wonderful place on earth, and he spoke with such conviction that everyone believed it to be so.

"How do we sign them up?" Asked Gilbert.

After they had been signed up and ready to go, Petunia had stopped conversing with the people living with her and spending more time with the next door neighbor's children, Marge and Vernon Dursley. This made Lily sad, but also bitter, and one day she yelled at her sister that 'such plain people fit together perfectly, just like dry crumpets'. Petunia had taken the comment to heart, and made a point to decline butter each morning when offered it.

"She'll come around," said Hermione soothingly.

It was Beatles week again, and she was flipping through the records the family owned. Her favorite one, Abbey Road, was sitting on top for tonight. She was thinking again, about Hogwarts. Though Slughorn had been very thorough, Hermione's need was still not quenched.

"Do you remember that Snape boy that Tuney got so angry at?" Asked Hermione.

Lily nodded absent-mindedly. Today, July 2nd, on the day both girls celebrated their birthdays, they were going out to eat.

"Well, I think we should talk to him before school starts," said Hermione.

The other girl did a double take. She didn't mind the aspect of new friends or acquaintances, but rather the fact that this time it wasn't she who had suggested it. It made her wonder what sort of worth Hermione saw in the possible alliance.

"It's a win-win situation, really," said Hermione slowly, "He gets the friend he was obviously pining for, and we get a new friend and more information about Hogwarts."

"What makes you think he knows anything about Hogwarts?" Asked Lily.

"He called us witches, Lily – that has got to count for something."

Lily groaned, but eventually agreed. The Snape boy hadn't seemed like the nicest person on the block.

/

It didn't take them long to find the Snape boy. He sat behind the Lover's Creek (named thus because of the many couples to come here at night), poking a long stick in the water. Hermione wasn't exactly a master at social skills, so she just let Lily introduce them. However, Lily thought differently.

"I'm Lily Evans, and today is my birthday," she said.

There was an awkward pause while Lily nudged Hermione to talk. The boy's sociality was just as low as Hermione's, it was quickly realized.

"And I'm Hermione Viennere, and today my birthday is celebrated, too."

The boy looked at them with furrowed brows.

"My name is Severus Snape," he said, "My birthday was in February."

Both Lily and Hermione giggled, and Severus blushed.

"We need to ask you something," said Hermione.

Snape took a step back, thinking that they were there to tease and pick on him like the other kids did.

"What did you mean, we're witches?" the two girls asked in unison.

He sighed, relieved. He brought one hand up to his hair and ruffled the long locks, wishing it was shorter so it didn't fall in his eyes so much. He nervously asked them if they had gotten letters yet, and when they said yes he visibly relaxed.

"So did I. Isn't it just great? I can't wait until I can go to Hogwarts!"

It was hard not to get caught up on his excitement.

"Yes – Hermione and I cannot wait to get our wands!" Laughed Lily.

Hermione grinned and asked, "Severus, would it be possible for you to tell us more about the school?"

Severus nodded eagerly. He told them of the four different houses, and Hermione said that Ravenclaw sounded the best. Severus said that Slytherin was the best, and that all three should want to be in that particular house. By that time they had formed such a bond that they all agreed that, no matter what, they'd try to be in the same house as each other. Afterwards, they talked of things such as charms and potions and quidditch (something that both Hermione and Lily did not see the point of), and how Severus was aching to leave as soon as possible.

"Severus, would you like to come to our birthday party?" asked Hermione.

He seemed dubious again. He wringed his hands together in violent motions, as if there was some sort of inner turmoil he was fighting.

"I… uh… I don't have anything to give you two…" he said.

Lily grinned and said, "We don't need any more gifts – just more friends."

Severus grinned and dusted off his coat. Together they made their way to where the party was being held, in the park. It was just a small event, with the three other Evans family members. Petunia had invited Marge Dursley, who had brought along her brother, Vernon. Because it was such a small party, and because plenty of food had been made, neither Gilbert nor Laura complained about Severus's presence. Only Petunia put her nose up in the air, muttering something about 'freaks' before walking off to the fountain with her 'new besties'.

"Is it just me," Severus asked Hermione, "Or has she gotten even uglier since the last time?"

Because he didn't seem to say it out of meanness, Hermione let it slide and decided to vent a bit herself.

"Only in personality," she muttered darkly.

Lily overheard this and tried to stay mad, only to giggle in agreement.

"I think your 'We'reprogidiesandwe'' speech really got to her, 'Mione," she said jokingly.

Hermione huffed indignantly, crossing her arms in irritation.

"Well it's true. And who is to say that we're the strange ones – at least we're nice and have never called anyone a freak. That's more than she can say for herself!"

Severus looked at the two fuming girls silently, and mentally decided that he should try never being the one to get to their bad side. But the little quarrel was forgotten soon after it was announced that the presents would be given, though the two girls looked a little upset that her sister was still somewhere else with the Dursleys. Lily had gotten fantasy novels about magic, which she absolutely loved. Hermione unwrapped her presents and found that she had been given all of Darwin's books to study. They had officially bought each other's birthday present early, a matching pair of mood rings, but they still had something for each other. Lily gave Hermione they favorite picture of just them two, Hermione on the swing and Lily on the ground, laughing at something her friend had said, clutching the iron ropes that connected the seat of the swing to the roof. Hermione was greatly touched, and gave, with great merit, her friend an old fashioned locket with a picture of the Evans family in one side, and a picture of them two in the other. Hermione had roughly the same one, though hers was with both her parents filling the sides. The two girls grinned at each other, beckoning Severus to come with them.

"Hogwarts is going to be the best," said Lily.

Everyone agreed.

Sooooooooooooooo, how did you like it? I'm deleting some of my other stories so that I can write this one. That is, all the unsatisfactory ones. I'm really going to try to expand on the ones that have potential to be something big. I tried to make this story different by making each chapter longer, and I hope you don't really mind my spin on things that much. Also, since this isn't a major plot story, Snape came into the picture later than he did with JK Rowling, so I'm not using any of the things that might compromise their relationship, like the branch falling on Petunia's head. Anyway, I DON'T OWN ANYTHING!

RedRoses130

p.s.- What would you think of a Hermione/Abraxas Malfoy fic? I'm really in the timeOC thing this time :D