Disclaimer: The wonderful world of Harry Potter and the canon characters belong to J. K. Rowling, and I am only borrowing them to write for my and other people's enjoyment, without any intention of profiting from it. I thank this talented lady for blessing us with such a rich ground to build up our creativity on!

Hermione Granger was delicately navigating the sea of swirling people crowding the streets of London, focused on making her way towards King's Cross station, while carrying her two year old daughter, Celia.

The young mother was concerned about running late and missing the train, as they had a rough night, with Lia having a fussy stomach, thus she was feeling extremely tired and somewhat sluggish.

Hermione tightened her hold on the snoozing toddler in her arms, and quickened her pace, eventually hurrying through the barrier of Platform 7½, and gracefully jumping on board of the golden steam engine, at the last possible second, barely having enough time to catch her breath before it started moving.

The Phoenix Express, fittingly named after its majestic feathered counterpart, was designed to transport its passengers to their desired destination in a most efficient transcontinental manner.

The sleek locomotive was charmed to be more spacious and comfortable than it would have been possible if this was a non-magical train. The interior design had a scarlet and gold colour scheme, with deep vermilion drapery hanging over the windows. Each compartment seated up to four to six passengers, with the softest cushions covering the seats, for added comfort.

Hermione slowly walked down the narrow corridor line that ran along the side of the compartments, peeking through the glass, searching for somewhere to sit. Frustratingly enough, the train seemed full to capacity, and she was starting to feel rather distressed about that. She worried her lips for a few moments, before moving on to the last compartment and exhaling in relief when she looked inside and saw that it was only partially occupied.

She carefully slid the door to the side, her eyes snapping to the person sitting in the left corner seat, carelessly staring outside the window.

"Do you mind if we sit here?" Hermione asked in a soft voice, as she adjusted Celia in her arms. "Everywhere else is full."

"Go ahead," the stranger responded without looking at the newcomers, as he preferred to keep as low a profile on his journey as he could, and eye contact could definitely hinder that.

"Thank you," she hummed, and quickly enlarged the toddler seat that she had carried in her bag, carefully fastening her daughter into it, and securing it to the right corner seat opposite the other passenger with a Sticking Charm.

"Mama," Lia mumbled quietly, tugging on Hermione's sleeve. "I want Luna," she pouted, looking at her mother with wide eyes full of innocence and longing.

Harry Potter's attention snapped to the source of the shy voice, his eyes taking in the small girl with fair skin. She had big green eyes, and her long light brown hair was braided into adorable pigtails that had a slight curl to them. Her familiar features reminded him of some distant memory that he could not quite recall, or even place.

"Here you go, sweetheart," Hermione smiled, and handed Lia her stuffed unicorn. "Fleur will be happy to know that you're taking such good care of her."

"Yay!" The toddler squealed, squeezing the soft toy snug against her. "We see Tante Fluh?"

"She's picking us up from the station," the brunette witch explained, lovingly caressing a stray curl behind her daughter's ear. "Then she's taking us to go shopping, as we still have to buy a present for Gabrielle."

"We see Bree too?" Lia beamed with excitement.

"Ga-bree-elle," Hermione enunciated clearly.

"Bree!" the little girl cheered. She may have loved her Aunt Fleur – who was actually her Godmother, but having an aunt was an easier concept for a two year old to understand – but Fleur's little sister was Lia's favourite person of the Delacour family. The two girls had such a special bond, that Fleur and Hermione often pondered whether there was something magical at play.

"We can't miss her birthday party, after all," Hermione chuckled.

"Pwesents!" the small bundle of happy energy exclaimed in the firmest tone of voice she could muster. "Bree needs pwetty pwesents."

Harry's lips twitched with amusement at the endearing conversation between mother and daughter, and he only felt slightly guilty for hanging on their every word. The thing was, that the names Luna, Fleur, and Gabrielle struck a chord with him, because these were all the names of some very special friends of his, and he could not help but wonder if the young woman was talking about them.

What were the chances of such a coincidence?

His eyes trailed from the little girl to her mother, his breath hitching in his throat at the natural, muted beauty of the witch. Everything about her looked warm and inviting. If he had to describe her to someone, Harry would have compared her eyes to liquid sunshine, her soft golden brown curls to early autumn tree leaves, and he would have sung praises to her lightly freckled sun-kissed skin.

The raven-haired wizard groaned inwardly at his blatant attraction to the stranger, and forced his eyes away so he did not come off as a creepy stalker of some sort.

Hermione chuckled at Celia's enthusiasm, but she also wanted to educate her a little on her speech. "Pre-tty pre-sent," she sounded the words out slowly and clearly for her daughter.

"Pwe-tty pwe-sent!" Lia giggled adorably, clapping her hands together.

"No, sweetheart. You know the way you pronounce Bree?" she asked with a gentle smile.

"Bree!" Lia grinned widely. "We see Bree!" She bounced up and down in her seat, squeezing Luna to her chest.

The brunette witch laughed at her daughter's exuberance. "Yes, love. We'll see Bree, but what I meant was that the way you say Bree is similar to the way we say pretty present," she explained, knowing that even though Celia was only two years old, she was an exceptionally bright child, and she would understand.

The toddler concentrated hard on what her mother was telling her, and after a little while, she said, "Pretty present?" with a hesitant voice.

"Well done!" Hermione grinned at her little girl with absolute pride gleaming in her eyes, and she leaned down to kiss Lia's forehead lovingly. "You're such a clever girl. I'm so proud of you!"

"Yay! Pretty present!" Lia repeated the words she learned to pronounce correctly, and snuggled into the brunette's side. "Love you, Mama," she mumbled softly, her eyes getting a bit droopy from all the excitement.

"And I love you," Hermione whispered, holding the little girl snug against her, letting her snooze.

Harry could not help the smile that was sneakily curling in the corners of his lips. The whole scene tugged at his heart-strings, and made him long for the warmth of family. He glanced at the mother and daughter duo, catching the eye of the pretty woman.

Hermione's eyes connected to the stranger's in such a familiar way that it gave her pause. Even though he was wearing a light gray Gatsby – an eight-paneled soft brimmed hat – covering his forehead, his emerald eyes shone brightly at her, and Hermione had a feeling that she had seen this pair of eyes before.

"I hope that our chatter wasn't bothering you," she spoke quietly, her fingertips tenderly caressing Lia's curls as she slept.

Harry shook his head slightly. "No, not at all," he replied, keeping his voice low and soft, so he did not wake the little girl.

"That's a relief," Hermione exhaled slowly, and smiled.

The wizard raised an eyebrow. "I take it there were people who took offense to you traveling with a small child?"

The brunette witch snorted. "That's an understatement. Earlier, when I was looking for some seats for Celia and I, there was another partially occupied compartment, but the passengers took one look at us, and shot me such a look of utter disdain that I thought it better to keep on looking elsewhere. I'll never knowingly subject my daughter to such disapproval, if I can help it," she explained.

"I know what you mean," said Harry.

"Oh?" Hermione echoed. "Do you have children yourself?"

"No," he shook his head with a light chuckle. "But I do have a Godson, Teddy. Unfortunately, he lost his parents to the war, and since then, his grandmother and I take care of him. We have a weekly schedule, which works out well for all included. Although, I'd actually prefer to adopt him myself, but I won't do that to Andy. I can't, not after she had lost her daughter and son-in-law."

The muggleborn witch's heart sank into her stomach at the mention of losing loved ones to the war. "My condolences," she swallowed her emotions. "I've read that the war had taken quite a toll on Britain."

Harry's eyes dropped to his knees, and his shoulders slumped. He did not like talking about the Second Wizarding War, not at all, although he realized that he was the one who mentioned it. "Thanks," he nodded curtly, and then looked at the witch, surprised. "Read?" he echoed. "Forgive me for prying, but aren't you British? You certainly have the accent."

Hermione blinked. "Yes, I was born in England, but we moved to France when I was twelve years old."

"Oh?" Harry's eyes widened slightly, his thoughts going a mile a minute at her admission. Could this warm, beautiful young mother be the awkward, bossy little girl who transferred out of Hogwarts in his first year? She certainly looked and felt familiar to him, although it was glaringly obvious that if she was in fact the same person, she had blossomed under the French sun.

"Well, let's just say that Britain didn't agree with me," she said vaguely.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Harry said carefully. "May I ask what happened?" he inquired.

"Er," Hermione worried her lips, hesitating for a few moments, then shrugged. "Sure," she sighed, and fiddled with her fingertips nervously. "I attended Hogwarts for a few months, and let's just say I didn't exactly endear myself to my year mates. I was a bit bossy and tried to help a boy with the coursework, but I shouldn't have, as he didn't ask for it at all. He made a few well aimed quips that had me burst into tears in one of the bathrooms, where I happened to come across a mountain troll," she hummed, and rested her right hand on her left shoulder. "I got badly injured, and my shoulder still acts up today, because it wasn't treated properly."

Harry swallowed the sharp jolt of guilt that rushed him at the witch's words, as he still had nightmares about what happened back then.

It was Halloween morning, in Charms class, that twelve year old Hermione Granger was the first to grasp the Levitation Charm, which had annoyed young Ronald Weasley, especially because she pointed out that he was doing it wrong. Naturally, he challenged the muggleborn witch to do it right then, resulting in Professor Flitwick complimenting her, much to the chagrin of the redhead.

That was when everything went downhill.

Thanks to Ron's bad mood, he complained to Harry about her, rather loudly.

"It's no wonder no one can stand her, she's a nightmare, honestly," he said to Harry.

Hermione rushed past them, knocking into Harry, and he was startled to see that the girl was in tears. He swallowed uncomfortably. "I think she heard you."

"So?" Ron shrugged. "She must've noticed she's got no friends."

Harry frowned. "That's an awful thing to say."

"Doesn't make it any less true, though," he mumbled carelessly as they walked to their next class.

Throughout the day, Harry was feeling increasingly worried about the absence of Hermione, as she skipped out on afternoon classes, and on their way down to partake in the Halloween feast, they overheard Parvati Patil telling her friend Lavender Brown that Hermione was crying in the girl's bathroom and wanted to be left alone.

Harry had cast an accusing glance at Ron, which he pointedly ignored, pushing his way into the Great Hall, and sitting down just in time for the food to fill the House tables.

'Of course, food matters more to him than upsetting a person,' Harry thought to himself disapprovingly as he reached for some baked potato.

As Harry lifted his fork, his hand paused with the realization that even though he did not agree with Ron, he also did not exactly stand up for Hermione either. He swallowed his guilt and promised himself to look for the girl after the feast.

The messy haired wizard had no way of knowing that he would not have the opportunity to even eat a bite of food, as Professor Quirrel came sprinting into the Great Hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. Everyone stared at him with wide eyes as he hurried up to the head table, slumping against it, trying to catch his breath. "Troll, th-there is a t-troll in the dungeons, th-thought you sh-should know," he stuttered, and fainted.

There was an uproar as panicked students started talking over each other's heads, some jumping up from their seats, shaking from the anxiety the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor's news had generated. It took a few colourful explosions from Headmaster Dumbledore's wand to bring silence to the hall. The elderly wizard instructed the Prefects to lead the Houses back to the dormitories, leaving Harry perplexed at his request.

'Isn't the Slytherin dormitory in the dungeons where the troll had been sighted?' Harry thought to himself incredulously. Stealing a glance at Professor Snape and his little snakes, he could not help but feel slightly concerned on their behalf at the Headmaster's thoughtlessness.

It did not matter that he had a bitter rivalry with Malfoy, or that most of those Slytherins came from dark families and they treated their fellow students horribly. No one, no matter their attitude to magic, should be subjected to actually facing a dangerous creature.

The messy-haired boy exhaled in relief when he saw Professor Snape having a private word with his Prefects, prompting them to stay in the Great Hall until further notice. Or at least that is what Harry had assumed he told them, as the Slytherins stayed seated at their table, while the rest of the Houses hurried out of the hall.

One of Ron's older brothers, Percy, was in his element as he herded the lower years toward the Gryffindor Tower.

"Follow me and stick together," he said loudly as he led the way. "There's no need to fear the troll, if you only strictly follow in my footsteps. Make way, first years coming through! Excuse me, I'm a prefect, follow me if you want to get to the tower intact."

Harry shook his head at the taller Gryffindor's obvious shine to his role of authority, and followed him with Ron on his heels. When they passed a confused group of Hufflepuffs, Harry abruptly stopped, causing both the red headed boy and Neville Longbottom to bump into him.

"Why'd you stop?" Ron grumbled, glaring at Neville, who accidentally elbowed him in the ribs.

"Sorry," the clumsy boy mumbled apologetically.

"Well, I've just had a worrisome thought– Hermione," Harry said nervously.

"What about her?"

"She doesn't know about the troll, Ron," he explained exasperatedly.

"Why's that our problem?" the Weasley boy asked with a frown. "Listen, surely she had already cried enough to soak the bathroom and went back to the tower," Ron insisted.

Harry and Neville shared a disbelieving glance at the other boy's outburst. They were used to Ron speaking before he thought things through, but this was another thing completely. His behaviour was growing steadily worse towards the muggleborn witch, and considering she was crying all day because of him, Ron's indifference was rather alarming.

"Ron, you've clearly lost the plot if you really don't think that Hermione deserves a warning about the troll," Harry said angrily.

"Look, she thinks she's oh-so-clever, surely she can handle a little thing like a troll," Ron said petulantly. "Maybe the stupid thing will recognize Granger as kin, she does resemble a troll, after all," he chortled at his joke.

Neville's ears reddened with anger at the Weasley boy's blatant bullying attitude, and he shoved him out of the way. "You're an arse, Weasley," Neville hissed. "Come on Harry, let's go and find Hermione. Clearly this one's daft enough to believe every word he says."

Ron was about to respond when Harry gave him a scathing look. "You're no better than my cousin, Dudley, and he's a bully. He thrives on making me miserable, and you seem to be enjoying doing the same to Hermione. Why? Because she's brilliant and lacks the social skills to properly communicate with us? I won't stand for it. I can't be friends with a bully. If you want to keep our friendship, you need to think about your actions, because actions have consequences, even if you don't happen to like them," he fumed, and grabbing Neville's arm, they ducked down, joining the Hufflepuffs, going in a different direction, and slipping down a deserted corridor.

"Harry?" Neville asked hesitantly.

"Yes?"

"Do you think– well, do you think Hermione's alright?" Neville asked worriedly.

Harry swallowed hard. "I hope so, Neville, I really hope so."

"She always treats me kindly, you know. She helps me with my studies, and she always looks for Trevor when he gets lost," he confided in Harry. "We need to make sure that nothing happens to her."

"We will," Harry promised.

As they turned a corner, Harry and Neville heard quick footsteps behind them. The two boys pressed themselves snug against the wall, holding their breath, hoping that Ron had come to his senses and decided to join them. However, when Harry bravely peeked around the corner, it was not Ron he saw, rather he caught a glimpse of Professor Snape's swirling robes as he headed up to the third floor. It was a sight that gave him pause, but he was way too preoccupied with thoughts about Hermione's safety to ponder Snape's reasons for strolling the upper levels instead of searching the dungeons.

Quietly as possible, the boys sneaked forward to the next corridor, breathing in relief when they were in the clear, leaving Professor Snape behind them.

"H-Harry, d-do you smell that?" Neville asked, his voice trembling from fear as an extremely foul stench filled his nostrils, prompting him to slightly choke.

Harry carefully sniffed the air, his face scrunched up in disgust at the putrid smell, reminding him of week old rotten eggs, and an especially stinky public toilet. And then they heard it – a low grunt that sent shivers down their spine, and the shuffling footfalls of gigantic feet moving towards them.

Neville looked rather green around gills, his hands covering his mouth as he was shaking like a leaf.

"You alright?" Harry asked in concern, although his eyes were fixed to the shadows before them, waiting for their inevitable doom.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Neville said to Harry, who gave him an encouraging pat on his shoulder, which did little to comfort either of the boys. But, they were standing in an abandoned corridor with a foul smelling troll gaining on them – there was simply nothing comforting about the situation.

Harry's and Neville's eyes widened as the troll stepped under direct moonlight and they had the chance to take in what they were dealing with here. It was a horrible sight. The troll was at least twelve feet tall, its dull gray skin looked coarse, peppered with a smattering of juicy pimples. Its body was shaped like a boulder with a small round shaped head on top. The creature was also holding an enormous wooden club in its long arms, dragging it along the floor.

As the troll moved closer to them, the door of the nearby bathroom flew open, revealing a rather bedraggled looking Hermione Granger, who was busy wiping her eyes with the sleeves of her robes.

"Hermione, behind you!" Harry shouted, when he noticed the girl standing directly between the troll and the bathroom door.

Without thinking about the consequences, Hermione spun around her heels, staring at the troll with wide eyes, grabbing her wand so tightly that her knuckles were white from the pressure.

"For the love of Merlin, run for it, Hermione!" Neville pleaded with her as the troll gained on the small girl, his stomach jumping into knots at the thought of her getting hurt.

The bushy-haired girl's heartbeats quickened as the troll moved in on her, and with a panicked scream, she dove back into the bathroom, shutting the door with as much strength as she could muster.

Harry and Neville shared a fearful look as the troll swung his club, breaking the door into smithereens, advancing further on their year mate.

"Hermione!" they yelled out, and Neville did something brave, but terribly stupid – he jumped on the troll's back in a futile attempt to stop it.

In the next moment, however, as the troll gained momentum to swing its club again, Neville was flying backwards in the air, crushing into the opposing wall with a terrifying crunch. Harry's eyes widened, and for a moment he looked conflicted about what he should be doing – checking on Neville or helping Hermione.

With a worried glance at Neville's direction, he noted that the boy was crumpled on the floor in a heap, unconscious. He swallowed hard– that was when he heard it. Hermione's petrified scream drafting through the broken door pieces, and he knew he had to act.

He quickly jumped to his feet and ran inside the bathroom. Hermione was shrinking against the wall under a sink, fear gripping her heart. As her wide eyes fell on Harry, she squinted to read the words he was mouthing to her.

"Confuse it," Harry articulated wordlessly and gestured towards her wand.

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment, knowing she was about to do something incredibly stupid. The Sorting Hat might have offered her Ravenclaw, but she was a Gryffindor through and through, and she would be damned if she did not act on it.

Gathering her courage, she gripped her wand tightly and whispered a spell she knew was risky, but also effective, "Incendio!"

Orange flames sparked from the tip of Hermione's wand, enveloping the troll's gigantic feet. It howled in pain as the young witch's spell burnt it, giving Harry time to take his inspiration from Neville and jump on the troll's broad back.

"Harry!" Hermione gasped, her heart sinking to her stomach at the sight of the messy haired boy dangling in the air, as the troll twisted its body, trying to put out the fire. In it's struggle against the flames, the troll flailed it's wooden club around, bashing it into the sink above Hermione, crushing the small girl under the ruins the club left behind, leaving her bloody and unconscious.

"Hermione!" Harry screamed in horror and his magic reacted to the macabre sight of Hermione Granger's mangled shoulder, knocking the troll out.

Then everything went black.

Harry's next memory was waking up in the Infirmary with a fussing Madame Pomfrey checking him for injuries. He remembered asking about Neville and Hermione, and all the adults waving off his concern and changing the subject. Headmaster Dumbledore was adamant that he did not need to concern himself with such things, and that Mr. Longbottom and Miss Granger were taken good care of.

He found it very strange that he did not get a straight answer to his inquiries. Soon enough, he feigned sleep, and in the middle of the night when the Infirmary was bathed in moonlight, he snuck out of his bed and went looking for the two people he was concerned about, ignoring the soreness of his body.

Harry found Neville sleeping soundly a few beds down, looking rather peaceful. His eyes darted to the nightstand next to the hospital bed and noted the empty potion vial, which he had assumed had a lot to do with his friend's serene expression, as otherwise he would have probably been awake and freaking out about what happened.

The young wizard patted Neville's hand awkwardly and continued his search for Hermione, looking around confusedly when he reached the end of the room and did not see her anywhere.

"Where are you, Hermione?" he muttered lowly to himself, jumping slightly when he heard a muffled moan of pain coming from behind a screened off area.

Harry looked around carefully to make sure he was alone, and peeked beyond the screen, his eyes misting over at the sight of the broken and battered witch. Hermione Granger was laying on an uncomfortable looking bed, white as a sheet, her hair flat and lifeless, and her face scrunched up in pain. There were tear stains sparkling on the little witch's cheeks, and her lips looked raw and swollen, which the wizard had assumed was because of her efforts to restrain her urge to scream.

"Hermione," Harry whispered as he stepped closer. "I'm so sorry. This is all my fault," he sniffled, bowing his head. "If only I stood up to Ron, this wouldn't have happened."

Hermione turned her head towards the boy, her eyes wide with shock. "N-not your fault," she mumbled weakly, her voice coarse.

Harry's hands clenched into small fists as he thought about how terribly badly he had misjudged this girl. He had been annoyed and irritated by her like all their year mates had been, and he had no intention to see beyond the bossy bookworm persona, yet she had easily dismissed his apology as unnecessary.

"Hermione,"

The witch groaned with pain and sighed. "It doesn't matter, Harry," she said quietly, averting her gaze.

Harry winced at the obvious defeated tone of the girl and steeled himself. "It matters to me," he mumbled so lowly, that he wasn't sure if she had heard him, but that was fine with him. Harry wanted to make up for his previous behaviour, and he genuinely wanted to get to know Miss Granger better. He swallowed his feelings and spoke, "How's your shoulder?"

"Hurts a lot," Hermione hissed between two jolts of pain, and Harry's stomach dropped at the sight and sound of her suffering.

He furrowed his eyebrows, contemplating something. "Hermione, have they given you anything for the pain? I would've assumed that Madame Pomfrey treated you properly," he wondered out loud.

Hermione sighed and shook her head. "She tried, but I'm allergic to several potion ingredients used in pain relief potions," she explained.

The messy-haired boy looked horrified at that admission. "Aren't there any alternative potions that you could take?"

Hermione's gaze softened at the genuine concern in his voice, but she snorted in reply. "Harry, do you think that in this backwards society they care about a muggleborn student being allergic to treatment? In the past few months I had to learn quite a few life lessons the hard way, one of them being that there's no place for me here. I've accepted that. Your concern is touching, really, but you needn't worry about me. We aren't friends. Why would we be? No one can stand me. To ease your worries, though, I don't blame you. Thank you for checking on me," she said softly. "And thank you for coming to warn me me about the troll. That was very thoughtful of Neville and you."

The brunette witch's words were like a slap in the face for Harry Potter.

Harry was so stunned that he was not entirely sure how to reply to her. "Y-you're welcome," he stuttered, flustered that Hermione was so matter-of-fact about how she was treated. He took a deep breath and looked her in the eye, "For what it's worth, I'm sorry that I never gave you a chance and treated you like the rest of our year do," he said.

Hermione chuckled without humor. "It's quite alright, Harry. I don't expect a mountain troll to change things between us," she smiled weakly, and bit her lip thoughtfully. "Honestly, I'm going home for the holidays, and between you and me, I'm not planning to come back."

Harry's eyes widened. "W-what?" he squeaked. For a boy who thought of Hogwarts as his home, it was hard to imagine that there was someone who would rather stay away. Then again, he had to admit that Miss Granger had a hard time fitting in, hindering her experiences probably more than he had originally thought.

"I've owl ordered some booklets on alternative schooling," she confided in him. "Hogwarts is only the primary magical school in Britain, but there are others scattered around Europe and there are even a few institutions in America."

Harry faltered somewhat, and slumped down on a nearby chair, because he was certain his legs would give out from under him otherwise. This was a lot to take in. "You really hate it here, don't you?" he asked miserably.

Hermione reached out and patted his leg awkwardly. "I don't hate Hogwarts, Harry. It's a magnificent castle. The portraits and ghosts have a lot of interesting knowledge about magic and past times, but you and I both know that I don't fit in here, and I probably never will. If it was only because of my know-it-all tendencies, I could handle that, but it's not just that. I had a lot of time to read and research, so I looked into the career options that muggleborns have. Did you know that no muggleborn was ever in position to really shine or do something worthwhile here in Britain? The Masters of their fields seldom take on a muggleborn apprentice, and in the rare cases that they do, they take credit for their work, because society views those of 'pure' blood superior to those of us who were born into non-magical families."

Harry frowned. "That doesn't sound fair."

"No, it isn't fair, but that's magical Britain for you. I think you should know that anywhere else, they treat muggleborns and their families fairly," she said softly, and took a few deep breaths, wincing at the throbbing pain in her shoulder. Hermione closed her eyes briefly and looked at the messy-haired boy. "If you take a word of advice, be careful of those in power here, Harry. You're famous, but you were also raised without the knowledge of your heritage, as much is obvious. People won't hesitate to take advantage of that," she warned him kindly.

The wizard's eyes bugged out of his head, and he winced. "I haven't thought about that," he admitted, looking down at his knees. He was liking this conversation less and less, but Hermione proved to be a wealth of knowledge on things that he did not know before.

"I know," she hummed, and closed her eyes, a groan of pain escaping her lips. "I'd like to rest now, Harry, and you should too," she murmured sleepily. "Thank you for saving my life," she gazed at him gently and her eyes dimmed. "I'm sorry you got hurt on my account."

Harry smiled at Hermione and nodded. "I would do it again," he said sincerely. "Sleep well, Hermione," he wished her good night, and walked back to his own bed.

Harry Potter had a lot to ponder about after that conversation, and he decided that no matter what Miss Granger shared with him, he would make the effort to be friendly with her, and talk to her more. This proved to be difficult, because apart from thanking Neville the next day, Hermione avoided contact with them, and he had barely seen her before it was time to board the Hogwarts Express for the Holidays. He had stayed in the castle, of course, anxious about the new term and whether Hermione would return or not.

On the second of January, the raven haired boy was disheartened to note that the brunette was honest about her intentions, and he could hardly fault her for it. After the Halloween fiasco, Ronald Weasley's behaviour towards the muggleborn reached a new low, as he blamed her for ruining his friendship with Harry.

Harry gravitated towards Neville Longbottom instead, and in their second year, they befriended Luna Lovegood, and the trio had formed an unlikely bond. Luna and Neville had been by Harry's side through everything that had happened over the years, and he knew that without their friendship, he would not have survived the war.

Harry broke out of his musings when he felt a small touch on his arm. He found himself gazing at a grown up Hermione Granger, whose eyes were shining with unmasked concern, and his heart had skipped a beat.

"Are you alright?" she asked softly. "You look incredibly pale," she said and pulled back, reaching into her bag and grabbing a small chocolate bar. "Here, have some of this, it will help."

"Hermione?" Harry whispered lowly, but she heard him.

Hermione Granger froze and stared at the handsome wizard, paying him more attention than earlier. She remembered thinking that his bright emerald eyes looked familiar, and now she was certain that she knew why. Her stunned shock faded into a gentle smile.

"Harry Potter, I never thought I'd see you again."

A/N: I've been working on this chapter and the idea of this story for months now, always adding a little bit at a time. I've also been revising the way I style my stories, mindful of structure and such. About half of the chapter was revised by Kallanit, but I was on my own for the rest, nevertheless, any and all mistakes are my own, but she was an enormous help with the way I look at my writing now.

Anyway, this story is about a Harry and Hermione who grew up separately, without their friendship, which made them into different people.

This Hermione is a young mother, grown up in a tightly knit friendship with Fleur Delacour and her family in France. She had to pause gaining her Masteries before she really started, because she had got pregnant in her last year of school and given birth a bit after graduation. She lives for Celia, and hasn't really pursued her ambitions yet. The father is an obvious non-factor in their lives.

Harry is a broken young man, who had been betrayed by a lot of people throughout his time in Hogwarts. His only bright spots were Luna and Neville, Sirius and Remus, and Tonks and her family.

The story is about what happens when these young lonely hearts meet again. Can they actually get to know each other this time, or will the troll incident hinder their blossoming romance before it really has a chance to begin? Is Harry ready to be a father figure for someone else other than Teddy, and more importantly is Hermione willing to let Celia get attached to someone else, when she is so young and everything could blow up in their faces?

Read and find out if you are interested. :)

On another note, I'm currently revising all my stories to fix them up a little before continuing them, I thank you for your patience and still being around, it means a lot.

Have a lovely day, and be inspired!