AN: So I've been reading Hermione/Tom stories the past little while, and this idea popped into my head one morning. Waiting for class to be finished so I could start writing it damn near killed me! Anyway... I was inspired by a number of Naruto self-insert fan fictions, where the SI is actually born into the Narutoverse. I thought, well, why not have someone born into a new life, someone who'd already lived and knew the universe he or she were born into? This is what came out of it. Hope you like it.

Expect sporadic updates! I'm back to class now, so I'm not sure if I'll be able to update more than once a week (if that, with all the blasted reading and studying and paper-writing I'll have to do). Hopefully I can get something out every week, but we'll have to wait and see. Oh... and my writing style is likely going to change as I write this story. I've found that while reading the writing of other people I tend to subconsciously mimic them (I do the same with speech and body language, oddly enough), and I'm going to be doing a ton of different reading, from ancient Greek sources in translation, to English poetry, to American literature... so my writing might change depending upon what I've recently read. You've been warned... but do enjoy this story regardless. I don't think I've ever read a Harry Potter fan fiction quite like this before, so hopefully it'll be original and enjoyable.

Prologue

Hermione had heard of past lives, of course, but she'd always assumed they were past, as in previous. What had happened to her defied all logic, as far as she was concerned.

One day she'd been sitting in her office in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, going over the last of the discriminatory pro-pureblood laws she was set to abolish. It'd been a good number of years that she'd been working for the Ministry, and she'd gone over what must have been a hundred thousand laws in the seven years since she'd left the Department for the Regulation of Magical Creatures, but this law had been the last of the archaic and discriminatory laws that had previously governed the British wizarding world. She'd been proud, to say the least. But then that bastard Rabastan Lestrange, who'd been in the Ministry to appear at a trial involving the discovery of one of Voldemort's old hideouts, had come blasting through her door. He'd seen her, recognized her, and before she could even draw her wand (she'd been so damned surprised at his appearance – really, those Aurors should have been trained to contain such dangerous men!) he'd blasted her with what must have been a stolen wand. She'd only had time to blink before the green light hit her, and then she knew no more.

When Hermione became aware of herself again, she could see, hear, and smell nothing. She seemed to be floating about in some strange, warm darkness that felt oddly comforting. Time passed with her wondering what in Merlin's name was happening to her (there was no train to go on, as Harry had once told her). She was dead – she'd been hit with the Killing Curse, of this she had no doubt – and yet here she was, seemingly alive. She existed at least (Je pense, donc je suis, and all that). Eventually she began to hear voices, muffled though they were. They cooed and sang, and she would swear she'd heard classical music at some point, but she couldn't make much out of it.

Then there was a breach in her comfort. Suddenly what had been a cozy little place became unbearably tight and airless (she hadn't needed to breathe before, and yet now she craved air, she lusted for it, she would die without it). She twisted and kicked and tried with all her might to get out of wherever the hell she was, but there was nothing she could do. She felt contractions, and suddenly she knew what was happening to her. She hadn't been in some strange after life, living out her next great adventure in a dark hidey-hole. She'd been within the belly of a pregnant woman, and she was about to be birthed. She'd recognized the sensation of contractions, of pushing and squeezing to press the baby into the world (she was the mother of two, and she'd always recognize the sensation of giving birth, even if she wasn't the one doing it at this time).

The world was strange when she left the birthing canal. She screamed and cried and wondered why, in the name of every god she'd ever read about, did she remember her past life? She hadn't died in any strange manner; the Killing Curse was unnatural, yes, but thousands of people, probably millions since its creation, had died by that curse and no one had ever spoken of this effect. If they could remember their previous life, then surely they'd have said something? Surely someone would have admitted to it?

"Cornelia, I think, dear," a familiar male voice stated.

Cornelia? Oh, what a horrid name! Why, they might as well add Fudge in there somewhere! No one had used that name since that bloody idiot had run away! It wasn't in fashion anymore, old as it was, and tied to such a pathetic man as Cornelius Fudge.

"I think it's a perfectly lovely name," another familiar voice responded, this one female.

No! Hermione cried out louder than when she'd left her mother's womb. They were not going to name her Cornelia! It would be Hermione! Hermione or nothing at all! She forced her little, underdeveloped eyes open and could barely make out the people before her. It might have taken time for a baby to be able to fully see, but Hermione was not a baby. She was a woman of forty-eight years stuck in the body of a child, and she would not be named anything but Hermione! Her magic, which was stronger than what it should be for a newborn baby (in fact, the magic in newborns was completely undeveloped and would not respond to emotions until one month after birth) responded. It swirled up inside her, feeling as strong as the day she'd died, and exploded into the two people who surrounded her. Completely accidentally (though not unintentionally), she projected her desire onto her (she supposed) parents. Hermione. I will be named Hermione.

"You know what, dear? I think I've changed my mind."

"Oh, honestly, love, would you make up your mind? It's been months now since you said you'd come up with a good name. We can't wait any longer."

"Hermione," the man said. "Her name will be Hermione."

"Hermione? A bit odd, but perfectly lovely still. And what of her second name? You did promise me..."

"Yes, yes, she shall be Hermione Aeliana, after your mother. Hermione Aeliana Chase."