Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Game of Thrones

Chapter 1

And what a journey it was.

A month on the road in a stuffy carriage and constantly setting up camp was different, and Hermione would have thought it enjoyable if it weren't for two things. The first being that she had to ride in a carriage with her aunt, the Queen, who always looked at her with a critical icy gaze.

The second was Joffrey, he had it in his mind that he would one day marry Hermione as the Targaryen's married inside their families. To him, Hermione was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and he was enraptured by her. Of course, King Robert extinguished that thought from the boy's mind as quickly as it came with a backhand to the face, but it never stopped the four and ten-year-old from making inappropriate comments or remarks when no one was around.

Having just entered through the gates of Winterfell, Hermione wished she could breathe a sigh of relief, but she knew Cersei would be breathing down her throat if she did. She heard the guards yell for the carriage to stop and so she waited to be released from this confined hell. The doors opened and she sat back as the Queen, Tommen and Marcella exited the carriage before she stepped out herself.

The air was crisp and cold, but she found that it was quite inviting, familiar even. She deviated to her right to stand behind Marcella and zeroed in on a small brunette girl.

"Where's the Imp?" she asked her sister, and by the looks of the two girls it would seem they were Arya and Sansa Stark. Hermione felt a spark of irritation for a moment before taking a deep breath. While the insults and derogatory remarks about her father rubbed her the wrong way her father wore it like armour so she would try and do the same.

'It can never be used to hurt you that way,' he had said.

King Robert went down the line of Stark children, starting at the eldest.

Robb Stark.

'He may be the Stark heir but he looks like a Tully,' Hermione thought as she noted the similarities between the boy and his mother. His strong jaw was set in a polite and respectful expression as he dropped his bright blue eyes ever so slightly for the King. He was definitely a warrior, lean and muscled with the stance of a knight in training. Hermione blushed lightly, he was attractive and around her age. She shook her head of those thoughts as her gaze moved to the next Stark child.

Sansa Stark was even more of a Tully in looks but she was a beauty. Her fiery red hair shone in the sun and her soft pale features would probably draw in any man as she got older.

Arya Stark, the middle sibling. Now this girl was a Stark, inside and out. Dark tresses pulled up tight behind her head, grey eyes dancing around the courtyard looking for 'the Imp' and her body ever so slightly jittering with the need to move.

Bran Stark, second youngest but like Arya a Stark inside and out. He seemed more subdued, but his eyes held an innocent excitement and spark that had Hermione grinning fondly.

Perched on his nurse maids' hip was little Rickon Stark, with Tully blue eyes and dark red curls gently pushed back on his head. She would have moved her focus back to Lord and Lady Stark but a mop of dark hair caught her eye from behind the line of Stark siblings.

Another boy her age stood there, his dark curls threatening to fall over his grey eyes as they focused on something interesting on the ground. He must have felt her gaze and looked up to see what was causing the hair on the back of his neck to stand up.

They gazed caught and Hermione felt a girlish flutter course through her belly. He was the most handsome male she had seen in this world and held all the traditional features of a Stark.

'In fact,' she thought, 'He looks like Arya and Bran.'

Her eyes widened as she recalled that Ned Stark had fathered a child outside of his marriage with Catelyn Tully. Jon Snow she believed his name was.

Jon couldn't tear his eyes away from the enchanting girl partially hidden behind the forms of the younger Baratheon children. Her pale blonde hair was pulled back into an elaborate braid, her slim figure filling out her red dress beautifully and her chocolate eyes looking at him in surprise and wonder.

He was shaken from his thoughts as a flicker of recognition filtered through her gaze, she knew what he was. His eyes dropped to look at the ground once more, it was not a bastard's place to look so openly at a maiden of a great house, let alone a Lannister.

"Robb," Ned Stark called, "Please show the children to their rooms."

Jon felt a pang of jealousy towards his brother for the first time as he watched him approach the attractive girl and her younger cousins. He held out his arm and beckoned them to follow him.

"Where is our brother?" Hermione could hear Cercei growl as she was led to her chambers.

Hermione knew where her father was, in a brothel somewhere getting drunk and shoving his prick into the first whore he could find. The young lioness had no illusions about what her father got up to and didn't like the words used for the women in those places but it's how this world was, she couldn't change that.

Cersei once told her that the only power a woman had over a man was between her legs. Hermione had smiled at her and thanked her for the advice but inside she was reeling. She would never let a man order her around like some servant or use her like some plaything. Never again.

"I hope everything is to your liking my Lady," Robb Stark said as he opened the door to her room after they had deposited Marcella and Tommen to their quarters. Taking the room in quickly she gave him a small smile and nod before stepping in.

"I shall come and collect you for supper at sundown."

Hermione sighed as the door shut and she was finally left alone. Shoulders quickly sagging and her body relaxing she sat down on the fur covered bed and sighed.

"This feels like home," she whispered before laying down to have a quick power nap before tonight's feast.

A pounding at her door had Hermione stirring awake and calling out with gritted teeth.

"Who is it?"

"Robb Stark my Lady," came the amused chuckle from behind the door, "I have come to escort you to the feast."

Hermione was on her feet in an instant using her magic to smooth her hair down and remove any wrinkles from her dress.

'Heavens I love magic,' she thought quickly approaching the door. She swung it open and caught the startling azure gaze of the heir of Winterfell. His auburn hair was combed neatly, and his clean-shaven face held a small smirk as he looked at the tiny woman before him.

"Then please, lead the way my Lord," she quipped. She took his outstretched arm and followed him down the many stone hallways.

"I'm Hermione Lannister by the way," she introduced.

"Oh, the Im – I mean Tyrion Lannister's daughter," he commented and quickly corrected himself to preserve his honour.

"It's ok," she sighed quietly, "My father wears it with honour, like armour I guess you could say. Then it cannot be used against him."

"That's very wise," Robb stated as he tried to control the red staining his cheeks.

"I heard you were a sight to behold," he continued, "But I was also told you were a deformed monster in disguise having killed a woman and stolen her skin when you were young."

Hermione's bell like laughter rang through the halls at the image that presented itself in her mind. She had heard many rumours about herself but this one was the best yet.

"Well I can assure you that as far as I am aware, I have always had this body and have yet to harm an innocent person, let alone kill one."

"That's good to hear. My younger sister Arya was always fascinated by you and your father. I apologise for her lack of discretion and respect in advance."

"She must be quite a little spitfire," Hermione commented as they approached the dining hall. She could hear the muffled voices of the guests and residents of Winterfell inside and hoped that she would not be forced to sit stoically beside her family should her father not be there.

"She is a wolf of the North my Lady-"

"Hermione," she quickly interrupted him, "Please call me Hermione."

"Only if you call me Robb," he grinned, "And as I was saying she is wolf as wild as they come."

"I'd like to get to know her I think," Hermione smiled warmly. There was silence for a few moments before Robb looked down at her from the corner of his eye.

"I must admit that you surprise me Hermione," he confessed.

"Oh? How so?"

"I mean no offence but I was raised to believe that all Lannister's were cruel, cold and manipulative but I can't see that in you at all."

Robb thought that he had indeed insulted and offended when she looked down and faltered in her steps.

"It's true," she admitted quietly, "I can admit that freely. My family does not have a good history, but I intend to change that. Our House insignia is a lion and lions are brave, loyal and kind to a fault."

Robb listened to her intently as she spoke with such conviction and passion that he believed that one day, she would change how the way people viewed her House.

"Our words 'Hear Me Roar'. They have been twisted and turned until no one knows them to be anything but a conceded battle cry. And my grandfather's specialty 'the Lannister's send their regards'," she scoffed forgetting her company and letting her emotions show, "Absolute rubbish. One day my House will recite different words and it will instil respect instead of fear."

"And what will those words be?" Robb asked with a wide grin.

"I'll know them when they come to me," she said quickly and dismissively.

"So, in other words you don't know," he laughed.

"You cannot plan or rehearse these things if you want them to actually mean something," she growled out. Robb raised his hands in surrender and just grinned at her narrowed eyes.

"Calm down little lion, I didn't mean anything by it. I'm sure you know plenty of other things," he retorted. Hermione let out a small sniff and crossed her arms in mock annoyance. Robb held his arm back out for her to take and continued to lead her closer and closer to the feast.

He led her into the hall, and she ignored the stares of almost everyone in the room once she saw her father was not present. He led her over to a small table near the King's where another boy around Robb's age sat waiting for him.

"Ah now I see what kept you so long mate," he grinned lecherously at the approaching pair.

"Theon," Robb replied quickly and tersely, "This is Hermione Lannister, niece of the King and Queen. Show her some respect."

Theon was taken aback by the barely hidden hostility in his friend's voice before nodding and leaning back in his seat. As the feast began, they spoke fondly of their families or in Hermione's case, her father and Theon's case the other Stark children. She was introduced to said children and was immediately enraptured by little Rickon.

She told him and Bran stories of Kings Landing, Casterly Rock and Highgarden, the only other capitals she had been too. She didn't have as many tales about her times in Highgarden as she was only fostered there for a year before Tywin demanded her return.

Sansa was ever the dutiful lady. Submissive and polite with dreams of handsome princes and heroic knights. Arya couldn't stand it and almost immediately started an argument that would have caused a scene if Robb had not put a stop to it.

"Do not shame our father by behaving like children, Rickon is better behaved than you," he said firmly but the sparkle of amusement in his eye gave away his true feelings. Arya sulked back in her chair, looking around the room not bothering to hide her board expression.

"Where is your other brother?" Hermione asked as the other younglings went back to their own table, closer to their parents.

"There are only five Stark children," Theon scoffed.

"I believe there are six," she stated plainly turning to Robb, "You have a half-brother correct?"

"Uh yes," Robb replied as he starred into his goblet, "Mother refused to allow him to the feast because he is not trueborn and would insult the King and Queen with his presence."

This set Hermione teeth grinding. She knew what it was like to be bullied and degraded based on your blood. In her previously life she was labelled as 'Muggleborn', a magical child with non-magical parents. Now this label wasn't so bad, it was the crude and demoralising version of it that had her clutching her forearm every time she thought of it.

Mudblood.

Dirty blood they said. Because of her parents.

Bastard.

The name of a child whose parents were not lawfully married when the child was brought into the world.

Disgusting.

The notion of basing how you act towards someone built on the foundation of their blood and not who they are as a person did not sit well with Hermione, it was the one thing she could not accept about this new world. It was the same as the old one except this time the child was ridiculed, beaten and given no chance in the world because of it.

"Where could I find him," she asked with an icy stare. Both boys starred at her in shock before Robb smiled warmly.

"If I know my brother at all," he started quietly, "It's that he would be beating some poor defenceless training dummy or brooding in his room."

"Right well, I guess I'm off to the training yards," she said before she swiftly got to her feet and swept out of the room like a woman on a mission.

"Does she even know where she's going?" Theon asked his friend. Robb chuckled and shrugged, he was not about to call her back or chase after her, he didn't want to get in between that hurricane of a woman and her objective.

Hermione was lost. She had finally found her way outside, but it seems that she found everywhere except the training grounds. A few guards had tried to verbally direct her but since they were unable to leave their post, they couldn't help her much more than that.

"This is absolutely useless," she huffed pulling her coat tighter around her shoulders. She stormed around a corner and nearly tripped over her own father's small form.

"Father!" she exclaimed happily, "I missed you."

She knelt to give him a hug and peck on the cheek while he chuckled warmly.

"Ah my beauty of a daughter how I have missed you as well. What brings you out here with no escort?"

"You know full well I do not require an escort," she said with a cocky grin that would have made Sirius Black proud.

"Yes, my brave and strong daughter who doesn't need a man to hold her hand," her father quipped.

"I am looking for Robb Stark's brother actually."

"Which one? They are both so young that I imagine their parents would not let them out of their sights."

"Do not play dumb with me father, you know exactly who I speak of."

"Then by all means my dear," he bowed extravagantly, "He is attempting to kill an innocent training dummy behind me as we speak."

Hermione grinned at her father's antics and quickly stepped around him to approach the resounding 'twack' she could now hear getting closer.

Oh, that poor innocent training dummy.

The wooden and padded doll was leaking hay, the ropes holding it secure to the wooden post so frayed that they threatened to break apart completely. Luckily the young man was only using a wooden training sword, or the desecrated body might be more of a shredded carcase.

"You seem upset."

The dark-haired boy turned so quickly she wondered if he had whiplash. His shadowy grey eyes starred into her soul as his chest heaved from exertion. Upon realising who was standing in front of him he lowered his gaze to the ground and bowed.

"My Lady," he greeted tensely, "I must apologise, I was not expecting company."

"Please stand," she said softly, "I feel I must apologise for being so selfish and seeking you out and disturbing your training."

"I…wasn't really training," he admitted sheepishly.

"Then what were you doing?" she chuckled. Jon let himself smile before quickly remembering his place and took a step back, his smile dwindling.

"I was venting some frustrations," he replied.

"Is it working?"

"No," he huffed after a moment. Her laughter rang through the air and Jon couldn't help but stare at her in awe, he had never heard such genuine laughter from a woman before. Arya didn't count.

"You look like a wounded pup with all that pouting you're doing sir," she giggled, "I'm Hermione Lannister by the way, it's a pleasure to meet you."

"Jon Snow," he responded with a grimace.

"I was disappointed you weren't at the feast," she confessed, "Robb told me why and I didn't like it. You are family and should be treated as such."

Jon starred at this small slip of a woman in absolutely wonder. The genuine irritation in her voice and heartfelt admission stirred something in his chest. He had always been told that Lannister's were cruel and evil beings but in the span of ten minutes not one but two of them had proved that theory wrong. He wondered if it had anything to do with the fact, they were father and daughter.

"Thank you for your kind words my Lady."

"Please call me Hermione," she requested with a hopeful smile.

"It is not proper," he started but was quickly interrupted.

"Please," she begged, "I hate titles, I was given a name for a reason, I would prefer it be used."

"Very well Hermione," he conceded. Her beaming smile had his pale cheeks blushing and warmth filling his chest.

"I must admit something to you though," she said, "I find myself awfully lost and apart from finding you and gaining your company I'm afraid I didn't think much on what my plan would be from here."

"Uh…is there anywhere in particular you would like to go?" Jon asked bewildered, "I could…show you?"

"That would be wonderful," she exclaimed, "Do you have a library?"

"Yes?" he answered though it was more of a question. She was obviously very kind but he couldn't understand why she would willingly spend time with him, a bastard, when she could be feasting with his siblings and having fun.

"As much as I like food, I am not one much for crowds or loud noises or seeing the King make a fool of himself," she said quietly with a mischievous smile. Jon let out a small laugh as he led her through the courtyards and up a few sets of stairs to a tower.

Once again Hermione broached the subject of family and listened intently as Jon seemed to come alive the more he spoke of his siblings, especially Arya. Hermione was so engrossed in his passionate retelling of how Arya could already shoot a bow and arrow perfectly that Hermione missed a step and stumbled.

Jon was quick to grasp her forearms and brace her before she could fully make a fool of herself and Hermione stuttered outa small thank you. She mentally scolded herself as they continued to climb. She wasn't one of those girls who would lose their stepping or become clumsy just because she was around a handsome boy.

She was only brought out of her thoughts when Jon pushed open a large wooden door to reveal a large library filled with books and scrolls and dust.

She let out a small laugh of excitement as she quickly went about scouring the shelves for something interesting to read. Jon watched her flier throughout the isles of books quickly filling her arms. He shook his head and chuckled as she tried in vain to reach a book on a shelf above her head.

"Don't just stand there and laugh," she scolded playfully, "Come and help me."

He did just that. He strode over to her awaiting form and handed her the book she was desperately grasping at moments before.

'Brandon's of the North.'

"Interesting choice," he remarked with an amused grin. She shot him a mock glare before nestling herself in an armchair.

"I believe we should hide up here until everything is over," she sighed contently.

Jon gave a wistful smile. For the first time in years he thought of something better than going to the wall. A vision flashed in his mind's eye for a split second. An older version of him, sitting at the head of the dining table in Winterfell with a young boy perched on his lap playfully tugging at his hair.

The boy was around Rickon's age with raven tresses, pale skin and deep violet eyes. Beside him sat Hermione, older and even more beautiful, belly swollen with his second child.

The vision faded and with-it Jon came crashing back down to reality. As much as he was attracted to this girl, he would always be destined for the Wall. She would marry a Lord that could give her a home, a name and children.

He was a bastard. He could give her nothing.

He was broken out of his brooding when she called hi name and beckoned him to sit across from her, asking him all sorts of questions about the North's history and culture.

He was a bastard and he could give her nothing, but he would make the most of the time he had with her.