Well aren't you all extremely lucky. Two chapters in one day. Not that anyone pays attention to these little blurbs. I suppose this is where social convention dictates I apologize for the fortnight between updates, but an apology wouldn't exactly be fair, as I'm not really all that sorry. See, I'm an actual writer outside of the HP fandom, and I do have other deadlines I'm trying to make. Also, there is Real Life to contend with, so Happy Place wasn't at the top of my list of priorities. However, I shall try my best to make up for all of this by giving you at leasttwo chapters per update. I hope we can all consider that a fair deal.

It should also be noted that I do NOT write fluffy, conscientious, lovey-dovey Toms. Tom is a sociopath, and having grown up in the presence of one, I am painfully familiar with their behavioral patterns. My Toms (as I'm hoping to write up more than one Tomione) will be a reflection of that sociopathic character. I hope everyone is okay with that. If not, tough deal. NOTE: There will be sarcasm and little to no political correctness on practically every page loaded for this story. If you find my lack of political correctness or my excessive sarcasm offensive, you are welcome to message me privately and we can discuss it.

It should also be noted that I am going to try to keep my Hermione as close as possible to JKR's Hermione. I like her version of Hermione the best, and, let's face it, most fanfiction Hermione's, for whatever reason, turn out to be raging sluts. I find this annoying, but those stories belong to those authors, and there's not much I can do about that except to not follow the pattern.

If you spot an error, point it out and I'll do what I can to fix it. Seriously, I may be a raging bitch, but I don't bite. . .hard. . .often. I don't bite hard often. If you flame just to flame, I'll probably ignore you, as flames don't typically have anything constructive to say. That being said, I hope you all find the story enjoyable, and I look forward (albeit apprehensively) to your feedback. And feedback really is essential. Writers like constructive and helpful reviews.

Chapter 3

The quartet made their way down to The Leaky Cauldron, keeping their heads down as best they could, trying to avoid people and the questions that invariably came with them. Hermione continued to keep a hidden eye on what was behind them, and the fact that Abraxas was still following them wasn't setting well in her stomach. She nudged the boys along every time they paused and tried to speak. Being overheard in a crowded Diagon Alley was the last thing they needed.

Once inside the inn, everyone sank down at a table, ordered a round of the strongest drink available, and sat quietly until it came. No one moved, no one blinked, Hermione wasn't sure she wanted to breathe. When Abraxas came through the door and sat down in a corner, she called for an entire bottle of the liquor, gulping down three shots when it came.

"Dunno what you're so worried about," said Harry gloomily. "You're not the one who's supposed to have defeated him once already."

"Will you shush!" Hermione hissed, throwing up a Muffliato. Abraxas twitched in his corner, rubbing his ear. "We can't risk anyone overhearing us. If we have to talk about this in public, at least put up a charm so no one is the wiser."

"Sorry," he said. "But on the subject of no one being the wiser, why would you give him your name?! What happens when we get back to the future and he sees you in the Ministry? He's going to know!"

"What's he going to do about it?" she quipped. "It's not like it's me he's going to try to kill as a baby."

"Still, he'll know. He can't know. What if he does something that stops you being born?"

Hermione paused before taking another drink. "Harry Potter, you'd better hope he doesn't or you'll die your first year."

"Bet the Dursleys would be pleased," he muttered into his drink.

"Oh, stop being all misunderstood," said Hermione impatiently. "They're not the only ones who'd be pleased to see you go, remember."

"So what do we do?" asked Neville after a while. "I mean, we can't just. . .I dunno, stay here. We've got to get back. What about Gran, and Teddy?"

"The convenient thing about being in the past," said Hermione, "is that no one from the future merits our concern any longer. There's no rush to get back to Teddy, because technically neither Tonks nor Lupin have even been conceived yet, and your grandmother is probably still our age and won't need looking after. . .not by us, anyway."

"The only thing to really worry about," said Cormac grandly, "is what will happen in the future if we change anything in the past." Harry, Hermione, and Neville all stared at him. "Granger's not the only smart one here, you know," he groused angrily, going back to his alcohol.

"In any case," Hermione continued, "the important thing, right now, is to decide where we're going to stay while we figure all this out. We can't stay here; we haven't any money for that. We'll be lucky if we can afford the booze."

"We could camp?" suggested Harry.

Hermione looked at him sideways. "You'd really be willing to do that again?"

"Well," he said, "not entirely, but it beats the hell out of sleeping on the streets in Diagon Alley, and who exactly would be willing to take us in, particularly with the war just being over, if it isn't still going. People are still on rations, even in the wizarding world."

Hermione mulled this over. "You have a point."

"So what do we do?" said Neville. "Harry's idea has merit, doesn't it?"

"It's about the only thing that does," said Hermione, rubbing her eyes. "Nothing else is either feasible or sensible, considering we're in –" she paused and picked up a paper from a nearby table, " – 1946. 1946. We're massively out of our depth." She threw the paper down on the table. "Grindelwald was only defeated a year ago, the War really has just ended, and we're stuck in 1946, on rations, with no way of knowing how to get home."

"Well, hang on," said Harry. "What about Dumbledore?"

"What about him?"

"Dumbledore could help us!"

"I doubt if Dumbledore would believe us, Harry. At any rate, if we, in this timeline, come to Dumbledore, he'd know us in the future."

"True," conceded Harry, "but considering he didn't tell us all those things about his – er, past, is it likely he'd mention to us in – er, our time that he'd met us? Think about it."

The idea did have merit. "Alright, Harry, but what about Voldemort? He's got someone tailing us, and if you think there's a remote possibility that Draco's doppelganger won't go back to him with the information he picked up, you've gone soft in the head."

Harry surreptitiously looked over his shoulder at the blonde man in the corner. "I think Neville and I can take care of that, Hermione."

"No fighting!" she hissed. "Are you trying to get is into trouble, what are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking, we can deal with him. A memory charm, you're good at those."

"Voldemort's a Legilimens, Harry," Hermione said calmly, "the most powerful one in the world – well, aside from Dumbledore, I suppose. He could break through the spell in no time, he wouldn't break a sweat."

Harry shrugged. "We don't need it to keep him out; just to – delay him for a bit."

Hermione looked over at the blonde bombshell, and sighed. "Alright, we'll do it." Harry curled his fists in victory. "But you are not allowed to damage him too badly."

There was a moment of silence, and then Neville said, "So. . .are we going to Dumbledore, or aren't we?"

Hermione sighed, and looked to Harry. "We are," he said proudly. "Dumbledore can help. He'll understand."

"If he makes us stay at the school so he can keep an eye on us, I'm out," said Cormac decidedly.

"And where exactly will you go, Cormac?" said Hermione complacently.

He stammered and spluttered for a bit, and then slammed his empty glass down on the table. "Fine, I'll stay. But you can't let him make us stay in the castle."

"What's wrong with the castle?" challenged Harry.

"It's a school, for starters," said Cormac acidly. "And we'll not mention they've got professors, and their caretaker roaming around, and really, have you ever known Peeves to keep a secret that didn't suit him?"

Hermione made a face. "Those are actually valid points he's making, Harry."

Harry crossed his arms, and slouched in his chair, his thinking position. "Alright then, we'll camp outside Hogsmeade, and wait for Dumbledore to contact us. Satisfied?"

Cormac leaned back in his chair. "Much, thanks."

Hermione buried her face in her hands. "Dammit."

"What's wrong?" the boys said.

"We're back in 1946, that's what's wrong!" she snapped. "Do any of you know anything about the social customs of 1946?" They were silent. "I thought not," she said. "Here we are, in a time we're totally unfamiliar with, being trailed by Voledmort's lackeys, and we have no money. We are, in layman's terms, attached to another object by an inclined plane wrapped helically around an axis." The boys just stared at her. "Screwed, boys! We're screwed!"

"Oh," they all muttered.

"What can we do?" said Harry. "We can't just wish this away, can we? We'll have to speak to Dumbledore."

"You still trust that old man?" said Cormac incredulously. "After having read Skeeter's biog –"

Before Harry could move, Hermione snatched Cormac's shirt-collar and pulled him half-way across the table. "You listen, and you listen closely, Cormac McLaggen. Rita Skeeter is a foul, loathsome, mean-spirited old crone, ready to tell lies about anyone in order to sell books. Maybe some of what she wrote is true, but you can bet your sorry arse that most of it isn't. If you ever speak ill of Dumbledore again based on what Rita Skeeter says, you will be on the receiving end of my wand, is that clear?"

Cormac looked duly frightened, which was more or less the point. He nodded, gulping. Hermione let go, and he sprang back into his chair. Neville looked distinctly pleased, sipping his drink, and Harry simply smiled at his best friend. "Now, then," said Hermione, glancing again at Malfoy's double, "I think it's time we went and lured our friend into a back alley somewhere, don't you?" This agreed, the four stood up, Hermion cancelled the Muffliato, and led the way out onto the London streets.

Neville, having hardly visited Muggle London in their future, gawked at its 1946 version. Hermione took his arm and led him down the street and around the corner. "Keep calm, Neville," she said gently. "You'll be helping Harry, in any case."

"Why isn't Cormac helping him?" he whispered back.

"Cormac wouldn't have time to cast the spell. He may be big, but he's an easy beat, and you know it."

"What about me?" Neville said. "I could barely make it through Potions without having a melt-down. What makes you think I'll be any use to Harry?"

"Because, Neville, you killed Nagini," said Hermione firmly. "That's all the evidence I need."

The quartet followed several more streets, and, upon finding what seemed to be the right place, traipsed down an abandoned alleyway. Thinking quickly, Hermione dropped Cormac with a Stunner and levitated him into an out of the way niche, ensconcing herself next to him. Harry and Neville slipped into the shadows as well, and they waited patiently for the Malfoy ancestor to arrive. The wait wasn't long; less than five minutes had ticked on the clock before the young wizard came along, his gait jaunty and his gaze wary. It was the perfect trap, mostly because he was alone. Two stunners came flying, one from behind a trash-bin, and the other from behind a fire-escape. The surprised warlock managed to block one, but two didn't seem to be his lucky number. He was lifted into the air, courtesy of Neville's hex, and landed about six feet from his original position.

"Quickly!" hissed Hermione.

The boys stowed their wands, and darted out, hauling up the young man's limp body. "Gor, he weighs a ton!" gasped Neville.

Hermione grabbed Cormac's collar and yanked him out of the niche. "Quick, put him in here!"

It required a lot of huffing and stuffing, but they managed to set the blonde man up in the niche, leaving his wand tucked into his jacket, binding his hands and feet together. "Think it'll hold him?"

"I think it'll keep him quiet until we get out of here," said Hermione, reviving Cormac absentmindedly.

He flailed as he regained consciousness, whipping out his wand and looking about wildly. "Who stunned me?"

"It was an accident," said Hermione. "Sorry."

Cormac looked distinctly ruffled. "Oh," he said lamely. "No worries. Did we get him?"

"Yeah," said Harry, eyeing Hermione knowingly. "Neville got him."

Cormac looked even more perturbed. "Longbottom?"

"Yes, Cormac," Neville said irritably, "me. Now, if you're done gawking, can we get a move on? I'd personally like to get to Hogwarts and Dumbledore before nightfall."