AN: This may seem a little confusing and disjointed, but it supposed to be that way. This is officially the first chapter. Dive in and enjoy the first chapter of our tale.

Interest at First Sight

We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken. – Fydor Dostoevsky

October 1979 – Hermione's POV

A mirage of colors swirled around me, making the space look like a droopy watercolor painting. Breathing was all but impossible as my lungs were being squeezed like a toothpaste tube. Before I could even fathom where I was, the vortex decided to spit me out.

Landing hard on my backside, I felt the bile start to rise, burning both my larynx and stomach. I quickly turned to my side, and vomited. My eyes watered something terrible as I coughed around my convulsing throat, my skin breaking out in painful goosebumps.

Finally, with nothing left to upheave, I fell to my back and curled into myself away from my sick puddle. Every part of my body hurt, as if I had just been put through a meat grinder. I knew some of the pain had been residual from the battle I was just fighting, but the bigger part had been from being pulled, pushed, twisted and torn though some kind of swirling vortex.

After taking a minute to allow myself to settle, I started to take in my surroundings. My watery eyes hurt to even open, but I had to know where I was and what the hell had happened.

Fear started to cloud my judgment and all I could think about was the last thing I had seen: Harry's startled, sad green eyes looking into mine; his yells reverberating in my ears. I didn't want to leave him, but was violently ripped from his grasp as he tried to hold on.

Shaking from disturbing thoughts, I took in my situation, needing to practice constant vigilance. Thankfully I could feel my wand still clutched in my hand. Blinking owlish, I slowly sat up.

Nothing looked quite familiar, but I had a tingling sense of déjà vu. Shuddered ran the length of my flesh, but I pressed on. Tall trees surrounded me, fallen leaves cushioned me, solid earth was felt beneath my clutched hands. Nothing around me gave an indication as to where I may have landed.

Before I could think of getting up, the sound of crunching leaved permeated the ringing in my ears. Slow, steady footfalls came closer … too close for my comfort. I didn't have the time to even defend myself before I saw the blurry image of a tall man standing in front of me.

Blinking the tears from my eyes I looked up, squinting stupidly. I could feel my magic start to awaken inside me, as if perceiving a threat.

As clarity returned to my shocked system, reality started to settle.

I would recognize him anywhere.

Anywhere…

Before me was standing someone I had only seen in old pictures, someone who had only been made alive from stories woven through his friends' tales, someone dead for 17 years, someone who bore the most striking resemblance to my best friend.

"Harry," I brokenly mumbled. Searing pain erupted in my chest.

"Who?" he replied.

Staggering breathes left my chapped lips, but not enough oxygen was returning to my bruised lungs. Dark spots started to form before my eyes; and before I could pass out, I felt a soft hand pressed on the back of my head, guiding it between my bent knees.

"Breathe. Slowly… in and out." Soothing circles accompanied the soft commands being whispered in my ear. "That's it."

Thankfully my breathing started to even out, allowing me a small amount of relief. Sluggishly I turned my head to the right and caught the gaze of James Potter. In the actual flesh; as solid as the ground was beneath my aching backside.

Questioning hazel eyes stared hard into my own. So many emotions could be read within their depths. And though I didn't really know James Potter from Merlin, I felt as if I knew him.

Déjà vu.

What the hell happened? Where the hell was I? How was James bloody Potter alive? What alternate reality had I fallen into?

Gathering my tattered courage about me, I croaked out my first question, having a sneaking suspicion of where I was, "W-what's the date today?"

My question was met with confused, crinkled hazel eyes. A slight wrinkle creased his forehead, his unshaven jaw fell open and his right hand scratched the back of his already messy black hair. He looked so much like Harry that it hurt again to breathe.

After his mouth opened several more times with no words sounding, he spoke, "Err … October 8th, 1979. I think."

Assumptions confirmed, my head made its way again between my legs as I struggled to breathe.

Holy fecking Merlin, I had traveled into the past. I had traveled into the past and ran into Harry's father. I had traveled into the past and into Harry's father that was alive, breathing, confused and awkwardly stroking my back.

Unthinkingly I backed away, needing to get away from James Potter's touch, James Potter's likeness, James Potter's time warp.

Why was I here? How had this happened? Out of all the possible outcomes, and out of all the wizards and witches in the Wizarding world, how the hell had I ended up with James Potter?

"Please," he whispered, as if I was some frightened animal (which in all honesty I probably resembled), "Don't be frightened. I won't hurt you. But obviously you need help."

Understatement of the year.

Looking up, I stared into his hazel eyes. I found calmness, strength, worry, concern, and thinly veiled mistrust. I couldn't fault him on the last emotion.

My heart rate increased and my palms started to sweat. My breathing increased as I felt my chest rise heavily from the intake of air into my lungs. Tiny prickles of anxiety coursed through my body, and I felt like a heaving disaster. I brought my tongue out to lick at my dry lips. The saliva in my mouth increased and I was thankful for the relief it gave to my dehydrated throat.

Not knowing what else to do, but being cognizant still of my need for constant vigilance, I asked shakily, "Your name?"

His beautiful baritone voice uttered my new reality, "James."

That's all I was getting. I could see it in his eyes. But that was fine. I knew James's last name.

"May I ask how you procured my wand?" he inquired, trying to find any dishonesty in my answer or my body language. "I didn't hear you utter a spell or see you use your own."

Trying to think of a way out of this mess, and trying to think on my feet, I hastily answered, "I found it here when I fell."

I couldn't tell him the truth, 'You see, I brought it with me from the future, where your unknown son and I were fighting the scourge of evil staining wizarding Britain.'

I could tell he hadn't believed my sloppy answer, but granted me a reprieve. I couldn't understand his behaviour. From what I knew of 1979, the war was at an all-time high. Magical folks were distrustful even of family members, and Voldemort was all but at the height of his power. Simply put – Wizarding Britain was in deep.

And here was James Potter, giving me the benefit of the doubt and not cursing me into oblivion.

"May I have it back, please?"

Nodding my head, I cautiously outstretched my shaky hand, not wanting him to get spooked, and placed his wand into his solidly warm hand.

I shivered from the contact and the utter insanity of the situation. My body hurt something awful from the violent movement, but it couldn't be helped. This was pure madness.

I needed a stiff drink, and the more I thought about it, the better that drink sounded. I was entitled to a little something which would sooth my nerves.

With several grunts and pain roaming freely around my body, I precariously got to my feet. In seeing my struggle, some mistrust left James' eyes and was replaced with concern.

"Here, allow me." Gently, he placed his hands beneath my elbows and helped me stand. Ferocious waves of pain, longing and confusion swirled within my abused body. Tears came once again to my eyes as goosebumps erupted once again on my bruised skin. I must have looked quite the fright. I knew blood lingered still on my person, bruises marked my skin, my cracked lip hurt something awful and I could still smell the smoke from dark curses and fiendfyre linger on my torn clothes.

"Thanks, James," I muttered softly, tasting his name on my lips, bringing life to my madness.

His eyes widened at the use of his name, but my shaking must have distracted him. Without asking, he removed his leather jacket and slowly (as if once again scared I might run away) placed it around my shoulders.

The smell of leather was wonderful on my flesh and feel of the heated jacket was a magic all its own.

Carefully, he waited for me to place my arms though the already warmed arm holes. His finger brushed over the skin exposed on my neck. I closed my eyes at the delicate feel of his finger gently adjusting his jacket. His touch made this all the more real. And no matter how much I tried to awaken myself, there was no escaping this time warp.

"Thanks," I said breathlessly, my cheeks reddened in embarrassment.

Looking down at me and being sure his help was sufficient, he serenely answered, "You're welcome."

Lastly he took the zipper of his jacket and closed it to the top of my neck, making sure it protected me from the crisp autumn elements. I wanted to tell him it was unnecessary, that I was grateful for his manners, but I didn't want to sound more stupid than I already had. His fingers left the collar of the jacket and fell back to his sides. His eyes pierced me again and I felt like I was drowning in his presence. My heart clenched at knowing what his outcome in life would be.

The lunacy of the situation hit me so fast and so suddenly, I hardly had time to even consider reining in my emotions. The tears that had sprung to my eyes earlier fell over my lashes, and I could see no end in sight. I bent over my knees and felt my head hit the ground that was littered with leaves and broken twigs. I finally allowed the suppressed emotions to flow through me, and they proceeded to rack my body. I felt my entire body shake from the immense pressure of my sobs. Too much was happening around me, and I couldn't understand how I ended up in this situation.

Everything around me was unfamiliar and unexplainable. I was never one for such change and I never really dealt well with sudden alteration in my life. I thrived on knowing my surroundings and being confident in the knowledge that I could think my way out of a situation. But now, as I bent over my knees, I felt lost and more alone than ever before. The very person in front of me was a walking and talking memory, a spirit from another time and in a place I didn't belong. Yet there he stood.

Flesh and marrow.

Again, he hesitantly placed his hand on my back. I could feel his apprehension in not knowing what was going on and how this hysterical person came to be in his presence. His trepidation was more than understandable, but all I could feel besides my anguish was guilt in making him feel so uneasy with me.

He ran his hand in circles on the middle of my back, and the sound of his jacket as his hand moved over the material, brought me out of my head. The heavy, agonizing sobs were now leaving me, and were replaced with small shudders. I heard myself hiccup from my lack of oxygen. I wiped the tear stains from my face, knowing it hardly made a difference.

I lifted my head from my temporary pillow and pushed my riotous curls from my face. I had often considered cutting my hair for the sake of practicality, but could never bring myself to do it. The war had taken many things from me, but I wouldn't allow it to take away something that had always defined me: my frizzy, disastrous hair. Harry had laughed at my quirkiness, but I knew he was internally pleased.

""Your hair is a mess, Hermione, but it brings comfort to my hectic world. Some things should never change," he whispered before running his hands through my uncontrollable locks. I could feel the stress fall from his shoulder as we both relaxed in each other's presence and from the other's touch.

It was a routine we had both adopted but could never remember from where. I would lay my head in his lap and he would tangle his fingers in my frizzy mane. We both needed the closeness to each other, and the calmness we brought to the other's life. The words he had spoken to me on that day always gave me comfort. They told me of his love and acceptance of who I was and asked me never to change, even though my know-it-all ways could get on his nerves.

"Are you feeling a little better?" James's voice interrupted my wandering thoughts. His tone was so soothing, ethereal almost. Another tear escaped down the well worn path on my cheek as I let his kindness surround me.

"Yes, t-thank you," I mumbled through parched lips. "Thanks for the comfort, even though you have no idea who I am or where I come from."

His face still showed his anxiety at my earlier break down, but it also didn't have the lines that were etched in his face from before. He removed his hand from my back and I missed the warmth and the surety pressure.

We both stood. I leaned on him a little, incredibly sore from both the battle at Hogwarts and my mental breakdown. Sweetly he helped me to wipe the dirt from his jacket and to pick the fallen leaves from my mad hair.

Once done, he stepped back and afforded me some space, but still close enough in case I fell again or needed his assistance. Crazy person I had become in the last hour.

"Where did you come from?" His eyebrows arched as his forehead wrinkled again.

I knew he deserved some type of answer, but again, I was torn on how much to reveal. His voice was calm, but I could also sense his almost pleading for me to tell him something. Looking into his eyes, so very different in color from his son's, I felt the need to confess something.

Needing to turn from his scrutinizing gaze, I took in my surroundings and wondered where I was. I knew I was in some kind of wooded place, but had no idea where the patch of trees lay.

"Where's here?" I rebutted and a small reluctant smile came to his lips. His bottom lip was heavier than his top, and was larger, plumper than a usual man's bottom lip.

"If I tell you what you want to know, you have to promise to tell me something in return," he said almost like a little boy who had finally learned to manipulate someone for something he wanted. I couldn't fight the wobbly half-smile that came to my mouth at the sound of his voice. It was emotion I welcomed warmly.

"That was very Slytherin of you," I said, trying to maintain my pitifully sad grin.

His face broke out into what I could only imagine was a marauder smile. This was the James Potter, I pictured from Hogwarts … before the war had tainted him; how everyone had described the larger than life James Potter.

"So you attended Hogwarts," he concluded. I wanted to slap myself because of my slip. He gave me a knowing look.

"It's a figure of speech," I prevaricated, thinking quickly on my feet.

Playful suspicion colored his gaze, but he let it drop. Instead he asked, "Do we have an agreement?" I bit my bottom lip out of habit and winced from the pain of my split lip. Thinking about the repercussions of my actions and knowing there was much to work out, I nodded.

"We have an agreement, but you have to understand there are things I may wish not to tell."

Nodding understandingly, he started to answer my question of 'where's here'.

"You're in Godric's Hollow." I felt the intake of breath rush to my lungs at his words. I was in the same place I had found his wand before coming here. He looked at me with concern again, but I just waved for him to continue.

"Um . . . these thick of trees we are sheltered in run the length of my property." I could feel my mind going in many different directions as I took in his words. "It's your turn to tell me something." I thought about what I wanted to say, but could really think of nothing. I needed more time to collect my thoughts.

But more importantly I had to get the fuck away from Godric's Hallow. It brought up too many ghosts (one standing in front of me), and too much craziness for me to comprehend. Thoughts of James and Lily's gravestones, Nagini shredding itself from a dead woman's body, Voldemort almost capturing Harry and I played on a dangerous loop in my mind. I didn't need another breakdown.

"Is there a place we could go to get a drink?" I asked him, needing to get away, needing something strong to drink and needing a place to speak privately. Trees around Godric's Hallow had ears.

Not knowing the craziness roaming in my head, James playfully rolled his eyes at my lack of disclosure. I brokenly laughed at his response because it was too adorable and something unexpected.

"Sure, I know a pub where we could go to get a drink that would warm you up considerably." In that moment I didn't care about some drink that could make me warm, I needed out of this haunted village.

"Okay," I said, my voice quivering slightly. I wasn't sure why he didn't offer to go to his home, but I already knew I wasn't ready to walk into the scene that had robbed my best friend of his security and future, a place I had no reason being in.

He reached out, tenderly taking my hand in his.

His was soft.

Mine was bloodied, calloused, hard.

Unthinkingly I said, "You trust too easily, James." He needed to be more hardened. Especially in the situation we had found ourselves in.

"As do you, girl-on-my-property."

And with that he raised his wand … apparated us away.

The space around me became nonexistent.

Darkness swallowed me whole.

The air squeezed from my lungs.

But James' hand warm and solid in mine.

.

.

I felt my feet hit solid ground in an alleyway before stumbling. Once again strong arms caught me before I could fall over. He let go and stared down at me. I had to look up to see into his face. I only stood about five-foot-five, and he was nearing or over six feet. I felt dwarfed by his height, yet surprisingly secure.

Raising his wand, he muttered spells under his breath that I couldn't make out, but knew all too well. His eye color changed into a deep blue. His hair became blonde with curls and his nose elongated. It was a dramatic difference, but I could still see the subtle signs of him being the person I arrived with. "I like a little anonymity, and don't trust as easily as you believe."

I simply swallowed around the dryness in my throat. "May I? he asked, pointing politely to my hair and broken lip. Though I knew in my marrow this was James Potter, I felt a little apprehensive still. I was war-hardened. I couldn't trust easily. Yet I had allowed him to apparate me away.

"Do your worst."

A hurtful look stole over his face before he shook it off. I couldn't even begin to imagine what it was from, but I felt sorry having put it there.

Soft tingling magic begin to heal the cut in my lip, siphon the blood from my face and hair, and patch my torn clothes from battle. I was amazed at the intimacy of his magic and the beauty with which he cast spells and charms.

Feeling a little breathless, he asked, "Shall we?" while passing his hand in front of him, and ushering me to go before him.

Nodding haplessly, I passed in front of him and stepped onto the quiet, deserted streets of Hogsmeade.

.

.

The lanterns over the shops swung and squeaked as the wind swept through the small village. A few people walked on the side, but none of them paid any attention to us. The sun was low in the sky, and I could tell it was getting close to sunset. I followed as he turned left and slowly made his way to the Three Broom Sticks. He raised his now blonde head up to the sky and took in a deep breath. He reminded me of someone who had just been granted freedom, and the first thing he did was appreciate the sky and his ability to breath in fresh air.

"What's your name?" he whispered, still looking up to the sky.

"Hermione," I answered quietly, not really wanting to break his concentration.

He finally looked away from the sky and down to my face.

I could see him working my name in his mind. Perhaps trying to work out if he ever heard it or knew it from some reference in his life. I knew his actions were in vain. Hermione hadn't existed in his time. There should have been no connection, yet here I stood.

"Pretty," he mumbled. A slight wobbly smile graced his face before changing back again.

As we made our way to the front of the pub, I was overcome with bittersweet memories. I had missed Hogsmeade and the familiarity it brought to me. It took me back to a time where things were simpler, and death wasn't the main concern on my mind.

James' opening the pub door pulled me from long-lived memories.

I all but stepped into my past reality.

James pointed me to the crooked wooden stairs that led up to the private rooms the pub offered and asked me to stay put. I waited a few minutes before he returned with something clutched in his hand.

"I can see you're tired. Come along, Hermione," he gently commanded me as he stuck out his hand to usher me forward.

I looked at him, flabbergasted as to what was going on or where he could be taking me.

"Where to?" I asked cautiously. It wasn't that I didn't trust him; I had just learned constant vigilance and the war only made it worse. It was difficult to try and act another way.

"Trust me, Hermione…" he spoke in a gentle voice. I sought out his eyes and allowed myself the small luxury of just letting go a little.

Just a little.

"Okay." I heard the word fall from my lips without even realizing I was speaking.

I felt my feet climb the rickety stairs, following him further into the pub. We walked along a low, dim hallway that was only lit by the candles that were in holders which were fastened to the walls. The door we stopped in front of had the number eleven painted on it and the edges of the ones were peeling from being so old. I looked up to my companion and he gave me a gentle smile which made him look so much like Harry, yet entirely his own person. He had already taken off the glamour without me noticing. I must have retreated further into my mind than I realized.

"I got you a room for the night. Madam Rosemerta had this one available. It's not the nicest but it has a front room and an en suite. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you look a fright, darling, and you wouldn't be neglectful in taking a shower." His gentle smile turned into a smirk, and I felt myself give a cracked laugh. It sounded too wooden to my ears.

"Thanks, James. I really needed that honesty and that laughter."

I glanced at his so familiar face, and felt my heart clinch for Harry, but I also felt comforted in having someone that reminded me of my best friend. I already missed my beloved best friend; I hoped with all that was in me he was fine, and nothing tragic had happened to him.

Opening the door, I followed him in and looked around the worn but comfortable space. I turned back to him and saw he was also taking in the surroundings. I wondered if James was trying to make sure if everything was safe.

After assessing our surrounding, he took a seat on the sofa. "I ordered some tea and food to be delivered up here. I hope that's okay?"

I nodded, overcome by his kindness.

"The loo should be through there." He pointed to the opening of the bedroom, trying politely to usher me to get myself moving. I must have smelled something terrible.

"Wait for me here, yeah?" I asked stupidly.

"Sure, Hermione. Take your time." He gave me a sad little smile after taking in my appearance.

I knew it was utter insanity to be here, in this place and in this room with James Potter, and trusting him as I was, but there was something elemental about him, something familiar and comforting in his being here.

I didn't have answers to many questions, and I knew this situation was just too surreal, but I had to grab at something a little familiar around me. It was the only reason I retained even a modicum of sanity.

After giving him a little, fleeing grin, I left and locked myself in the bathroom.

.

.

I turned on the water to as hot as I could stand. After I took off my bloodstained clothes, I stepped into the shower and watched as the water turned the lightest shade of pink. My stomach rolled at the sight, and I felt my tears mix with the droplets that hit my face. I thought of my Harry, and how much I needed his comfort now. I could only hope he was fine and knew of my love for him. I also thought of James and what I was going to tell him once I was done.

One thing was certain: my life had gone from tragedy and death to something I would never be able to describe or fathom.

When I finished washing the blood and earth from my body, I turned off the water and reached for the rough towel the room provided. My tears had already stopped, but as I cleared the steam from the mirror I could tell I had been crying, my lips still trembled.

I wiped the water droplets from my body and reached for my shrunken down rucksack. After resizing it I pulled out a pair of fluffy pajamas and my hair brush. I was grateful that I had my rucksack before I was unexpectedly pulled away into another time. I quickly dressed myself before tackling the mop on my head that passed for hair.

After fifteen minutes of wrestling with my tangles (a dull throb now in the back of my head from the fight it put up,) I repacked everything, binned my dirty, torn clothes and made my way to the closed door. Harry and I had learned to always carry our bags with us. One never knew what would happen in the next second. I took one deep breath to fortify my courage and opened the locked door. The steam pervaded me as I left the bathroom and made my way back to the front room.

Harry's dad sat in the same spot, deep in thought. When he noticed me standing there, shyly, a small welcoming smile came to his lips.

"This couch is very uncomfortable." I stared at him and tried to figure out what he wanted me to do with this information. "I just thought you'd like to know."

"Thanks for the warning, James."

I gave him a grateful smile for breaking my shyness, and he softly guffawed at my antics. It made me feel a tad bit lighter than before.

I nonverbally put a cushioning spell on the couch before I sat down and faced my companion. He handed me a small cup of tea, with a sandwich placed next to it.

"I don't know how you take your tea."

I smiled wobbly. "This is more than good enough, James. Thank you."

"So now that you are clean and your hair is no longer growing its own hair," I softly giggled at his tease and again felt myself relax into the couch and in his presence a little more, "would you like to tell me about yourself?"

I gave my companion a serious face and waited for his to reflect mine. I strangely reached for his hand that was resting on the couch beside him and lightly squeezed it. I wasn't sure why the words left my mouth but I felt an aching need to say them, to give him some kind of thanks for his patience, kindness and not hexing me at first sight.

"Please never change, James. You are a breath of clean air in an otherwise polluted world." He gave me a heartbreaking smile that almost melted me.

"Thanks," he whispered and squeezed my hand in return. I had only met him a few hours ago, but I felt comfortable with him and his resemblance to my Harry was beyond comforting.

Harry and I were in each other's souls but it had taken the incident of a troll to even bring us around to being friends. James had a natural charm that just pulled a person to him, and made them feel safe. I reveled in that feeling and let it overtake me.

It had been a while since I had felt safe. I wanted to pour out my problems and my trials to James. I wanted him to take my troubles and make them better. I was beyond confused by these thoughts, but resigned them to the back of my mind. Now wasn't the time to dwell on such matters.

Letting his hand drop, I pulled my knees to my chest and took a drink of the healing tea. I faced James. I was beyond tired and worn, I felt beyond stretched and empty. I had nothing left to give and my heart ached something heavy.

With the little I had left inside me to give, and not understand why I even did it, I started to talk. Letting go just a little, I gave to James … just a little.

"Let me take you back, James. Allow me to tell you how I ended up at your feet," I spoke and with those words I wove for him the happenings of my life right before I had met him.

Just a little.

.

.

AN: Thanks to those who reviewed. This chapter is dedicated to you: moonlitsnowfox, roon0, tayaboo72.

Also thanks to those who favored or followed this story.

Let me know your thoughts, if you like.

Hugs.