A/N - As always there is a recap at the bottom of the page for those of you following multiple stories.

Disclaimer - *Insert standard small print about not owning Potter here.


'Desire'

By Witherwings


Chapter Seven


The sight of her sister devouring the space between them with long, purposeful strides, her green eyes ablaze with the same fire Hermione now guessed her own eyes possessed in those moments when she had to forcibly hold her temper in check, gave her a first hand insight into the world of those who had wronged her, the temperature seemingly dropping several degrees as Rosaline advanced on her.

"Rosaline," she squeaked, her feet carrying her a half step backwards unbidden. "I can - I can explain ... "

But whatever apology she planned to issue was lost as Rosaline pulled her into a bone crushing hug that spoke of extreme relief. "I was so worried," she breathed into her ear, maintaining the sort of hold on her sister than someone lost at sea keeps on their life preserver.

For an instant, Hermione was too stunned to do anything, her arms held rigid at her sides as she struggled to draw breath, such was the ferocity of Rosaline's embrace. However, and as if animated by an unseen puppet master, she quickly recovered and curled her arms upwards to return the gesture a moment later.

Chancing a glance past Rosaline's mane of curls, Hermione eyes sought out Harry, whom she found leaning nonchalantly against the kitchen counter. Knowing he would comprehend her meaning, she puckered her brows in a silent question. What do I do?

By way of reply, Harry offered her a one armed shrug, a gesture she took to mean, 'She's your sister, Hermione. Comfort her.' Advice that, despite her assertion of less than thirty seconds ago that she should try to keep her distance from the sister she would have to leave behind, she elected to follow. After all, she couldn't deny, that holding her sister close felt as natural as breathing.

But even as she slid her open palm soothingly up and down her sister's back she felt Rosaline's entire bearing change abruptly. She broke free of their embrace and span on the spot, directing her once again furious gaze on Harry, his easy smile collapsing instantly as she rounded on him.

"And you!" she said, thrusting her index finger towards him whilst swiftly closing the space between them. "Don't - you - ever - do - that - again!" She punctuated each word with a punch to whatever piece of him that was within arm's reach.

"Ow! Rosie," he protested, retreating behind the counter and out of range. "Gerrof me."

"Flashing that little badge of yours and whisking Hermione away without a word," she continued incredulously, the lack of physical outlet for her anger sending her voice half an octave higher. "Am I supposed to be grateful that you sent your bloody patronus to pass the message along to me and Ron? You had no right, Harry Potter, no right - "

"It's okay, Rosie," interjected Hermione, cutting off her sister's increasingly irate list of grievances. Harry had only been following her wishes after all. It didn't seem right that he was bearing the brunt of her sister's all too familiar, Granger temper. She placed a calming hand on Rosaline's shoulder and gently cajoled her into meeting her eye.

"Don't be mad at Harry," she pleaded. "I asked him to bring me here, I just needed to ..." her words trailed off as her subconscious alerted her to a piece of information she had initially overlooked. "Wait ... did you say he sent his patronus?"

Rosaline nodded, both of her eyebrows reaching for the rafters, palms upturned, in a gesture Hermione read as expression of gratitude that someone else recognised the inconsiderate nature of that particular action. Had she spoken it aloud it would have been the equivalent of an exasperated, 'I know, right?'

"By the time Prongs caught up to us and I apparated back to St Mungo's from your flat, you'd already gone," she explained, leaving Hermione to surmise that both she and Ron had expanded the search from the hospital to her home - wherever that was.

"But I didn't know where you had gone," protested Harry. "I had to send my patronus."

It was a fair point, Hermione noted and she regarded her sister with an open expression she hoped would encourage her to elucidate further.

Evidently recognising that unspoken request, Rosaline continued, "But that's not the worst of it. Tell her what your message said, Harry ... "

For the first time, Harry looked a little abashed. "I've found her," he answered quietly.

Hermione's lips thinned. "That's it? Nothing else?"

"No," confirmed Rosaline. "Nothing else. I didn't know where you'd gone, or even if you were alright. All the nurses could tell me was that Harry had taken you away on 'official business'."

Now it was Hermione's turn to round on Harry. "Oh for goodness sake, Harry," she said, making no effort to hide her rising ire at his thoughtlessness - he could be as bad as Ronald sometimes. She told him as much before adding, "You told me you'd found them both before we left!"

Harry opened his mouth, presumably to defend himself against the accusation, but before he could so much as form the first syllable of that defence, Rosaline cut him off.

"Is that what he said?" She was already moving around the counter counter-clockwise as she posed the question. "Personally, I think we should teach him a lesson," and she drew her wand with a smile which could only be described as wicked.

Hermione stole a sideways glance towards her sister, and matched the almost imperceptible wink she offered, sealing their unspoken agreement to teach The Boy Who Lived not to cross the Granger sisters. "Seconded," she said aloud, withdrawing her own wand and moving in the opposite direction so as to cut off Harry's escape.

"Fred and George showed me a marvellous new hex," added Rosaline, her tone almost conversational. "I've not had the chance to try it out on a volunteer though ..."

Matching her sister's tone, Hermione replied deadpan, "You'll have to show it to me. You know how I love to learn."

"Ladies. Ladies," said Harry, nervously edging back until his spine made contact with the magical refrigerator at his back, his eyes darting anxiously towards his own wand which he had left lying atop the coffee table next to the now forgotten quidditch article. "Surely we can be mature about - "

Whatever else he planned to say was drowned out by the chime Hermione now recognised as a warning of an incoming floo traveler. A moment later the fire flared green for a second time and deposited a slightly sooty Ron Weasley into their mists.

"I've re-set the wards," he was saying, too busy dusting the soot from his clothes to notice the scene before him. "Flat's all locked - " His sentence was abruptly curtailed as he lifted his gaze and performed something of a double take as his blue eyes attempted to make sense of what he was seeing.

Harry stood pressed against the refrigerator with his hands raised in an obvious gesture of surrender, whilst his one-time girlfriend and current fiancée held him at wand point. In response to his sudden arrival, all three had turned their gazes towards him and now stood stock still, as if rabbits caught in the headlights of the flying car his father had once owned.

"What in the name of Merlin's saggy left - "

"Ronald!" admonished Hermione and Rosaline simultaneously, preventing the youngest surviving Weasley from completing his, no doubt colourful, profanity.

Involuntarily, the two sister's eyes snapped, first towards one another, then to Harry, before finally completing a full circle to land back on Ron, their composure collapsing at precisely the same moment, the pair dissolving into a fit of inarticulate giggles.

Ron's eyes narrowed. "Would someone like to tell me what the bloody hell is going on?" he demanded, his tone caught somewhere between exasperation and annoyance as his gaze shifted from the giggling sisters to Harry and back again.

"Just a friendly prank," grinned Harry and he sidestepped around Rosaline and Hermione, both girls now gasping for air and doubled over in hysterics, their interlinked arms the only thing preventing them from collapsing to all fours.

Apparently satisfied with that explanation, Ron took a couple of steps towards them, his head turned slightly to the side so as to scrutinise them more closely. "Do you think we should, you know, help them?" he suggested. "They're not usually that colour."

Harry chuckled and clapped his friend on the shoulder. "No mate, I think they'll be fine in a couple of minutes. Come on, help me make them some tea and I'll tell you all about it."


After far longer than the predicted couple of minutes, Hermione and Rosaline finally re-established some semblance of control over their laughing fit and now sat side by side on Harry's plush sofa, the latter resting her temple against the former's shoulder.

"Here you go, girls," said Ron, passing them both a mug of tea that had long since gone cold.

Rosaline, who's cheeks were still flushed, hiccuped a thank you as her fiancé placed the mug on the table before her, whereas, Hermione, could only stare at the face of the man she had married in another world - identical in every measurable way from the man she knew. She wordlessly accepted the proffered drink with what she hoped was a grateful smile, whilst simultaneously managing to avoid any direct eye contact. It was just too hard.

Thanks, no doubt, to the surge of endorphins she had experienced during her bout of uncontrollable laughter, Hermione had been able to briefly forget the torment this world inflicted on her soul every moment she remained. Or, perhaps more accurately, the joy of being able to experience the very real bond that her alternate self and her sibling so obviously shared had briefly succeeded in suppressing that anguish. However, with her mirth now quickly fading, Hermione was once more reminded of the stark reality before her: stay and lose the man she loved, or leave and lose a sister all over again.

Although she was very keenly aware that the young woman resting contentedly at her side was not really hersister, but that of another Hermione Granger, what did it matter really? Did they not share the same genetics, the same upbringing and, apparently, the same sense of humour? Leaving Rosaline behind would be just as hard as if they really had grown up together, harder perhaps, as she had never been given the chance to get to know her until now.

"I swear," Ron continued, unaware of Hermione's silent musings. "When you two get together, you're worse than Fred and George!"

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Rosaline poke her tongue out at her betrothed and only managed to resist the urge to follow suit herself by taking a sip of her tea. An action she immediately regretted, her nose wrinkling in disgust as the stone cold liquid ran down her throat.

"We were just making sure he'd learnt his lesson," put in Rosaline, lifting her head from her makeshift pillow so as to retrieve her own tea.

"And I have," chimed in Harry, who had taken up a position in his formerly cluttered armchair leaving Hermione in no doubt that he was taking no chances and had placed himself out of arm's reach - although whether a conscious or subconscious decision, she could not say. He pressed his right palm over his heart and continued, "I solemnly swear not to send a patronus to do a man's work from now on."

His play on his father's secret code to unlock the marauders map brought a smile to Hermione's lips and she immediately wished it hadn't; her cheeks (and her stomach for that matter) still ached from earlier.

"And don't you forget it," chided Rosaline as she brought the mug to her lips, her two hands clasped around its circumference. "Urgh. It's cold," she added, mimicking Hermione's facial expression so accurately that they could have been easily mistaken for twins.

"I'm still not sure I understand why you ran off in the first place, Hermione," put in Ron, half way towards depositing himself onto the far end of the couch. But instead of dropping onto the comfortable cushions, he arrested his momentum and moved back towards them. Perching himself on the edge of the coffee table he wordlessly relieved Rosaline of her mug and applied a quick warming charm to the beverage, thick tendrils of steam quickly issuing forth from the now once again piping hot drink. "Here you go, love," he said and was rewarded with a beaming smile as he returned the mug to her still open hands.

The unmistakable devotion evident in Ron's sapphire eyes made Hermione's heart physically ache and she fought against the moisture she could feel threatening to spill past her lashes. Unable to voice the thought that this was exactly why she had fled the hospital, Hermione shot Harry a pleading look.

One that he evidently picked up on.

"Like I said, Ron," he replied as smoothly as if the original question had been directed towards him. "Hermione was just a bit disorientated when she came to. She asked me to bring her here, I did: end of story."

"But you're ok now, right?" interjected Rosaline, sitting up abruptly as if suddenly remembering why she had been searching for her sister in the first place.

"I'm fine, Rosie," came Hermione's instantaneous reply.

Perhaps too instantaneous.

Setting down her mug, Rosaline turned to face Hermione, her green eyes studying her intently. "Are you sure? You seem ... different somehow. I can't describe it," she added with a small shake of her head.

Hermione schooled her features so as to display none of the shock she felt. Rosaline can't suspect the truth. She can't, she thought ardently, as if the very act of even admitting the possibility would make it more likely to be true.

"I promise," she managed to reply a moment later and she was gratified to note that her voice didn't betray any of her inner surprise at her sister's insightfulness either. "I just must have just banged my head harder than I thought. I thought Ron and I were ... " She stopped herself from revealing to much mid-sentence, and backtracked to correct her near slip. "Well, I don't know what I thought," she clarified, "I was pretty spaced out there for a minute or two."

For a long moment that seemed to drag far longer that the two seconds Hermione knew it to be objectively, Rosaline continued to study her face, as if trying to discern any trace of deception, before her features split into a beaming smile once more in acceptance of her sister's assurances. "Well I guess if dear old Tom couldn't stop you, a little tumble was never going to manage it."

By way of reply, Hermione matched her sister's warm smile even as her ever curious mind wondered exactly what role her sister had played in Voldemort's downfall in this world; something she resolved to ask Harry at a later date.

"So that line you fed the staff," said Ron thoughtfully, breaking the short but comfortable silence that had settled across the room. "That was just a ruse to get Hermione out of there? You know old Kingsley won't be too happy with you if you keep misusing your powers like that - golden boy of the auror service or not."

"Actually, that was the truth," answered Harry. "Hermione is helping me on a case at the moment."

What are you doing? Hermione felt her eyebrows climb her forehead, an expression she noted was mirrored on the features of the rooms other occupants - although no doubt their surprise stemmed from the content of Harry's statement rather than his decision to voice it in the first place.

"Sounds exciting," said Rosaline eagerly. "We haven't had a good adventure in ages. What's the case?" she asked, directing her question to her sister.

Despite having no idea what she might say or where Harry was going with this, Hermione parted her lips to reply, but was saved from having to invent something by Harry clearing his throat as an obvious precursor to answering in her stead.

He wore an expression she knew so well (and had never had cause to doubt), one that, had he spoken aloud, would have consisted of just two words: Trust me. Recognising that she did trust this Harry as implicitly as her own, she offered him her silent agreement that he should be the one to steer the conversation.

With an almost imperceptible nod of acceptance, Harry took up the reins of the conversation. "I'm sorry, Rosie," he said, "but we can't tell you. You know how it is: Ministry business."

The anticipation etched onto Rosaline's face abruptly disappeared making it fairly obvious that she had been looking forward to another adventure as she had phrased it. "I could have been an auror too you know," she grumbled soto voce.

"But you're a huge quidditch star instead," replied Harry, his tone brokering no arguments. "I'm sorry, it's classified."

"But you can tell me though," said Ron. "And you know I'll just tell Rosie anyway, so you might as well just spill."

"Actually, I can't. This one's above your pay grade, mate. All I can tell you is that we're going to be taking a trip to the continent, and that even that's a detail can't leave this room."

For the merest of moments, Hermione thought Ron was going to protest at being excluded, but instead he simply nodded his ascent, this iteration of her husband either considerably more mature that her own, or else less prone to bouts of jealousy on such occasions that Harry was chosen over him.

"Shame," he said with a self deprecating grin, "I could have done with a bit of sun. I'm almost a pale as nearly headless Nick!" and he lifted the the sleeve of his robe to reveal a patch of pale, freckly skin.

Harry's features split into a wide grin. "Next time, mate. But actually," he continued, his professional mask slipping easily back into place, "we really need to get back to it. If you're feeling up to it of course?" he added switching his gaze to address Hermione directly.

Now understanding why Harry had chosen to reveal even this small piece of their plan, Hermione nodded her agreement. Had Harry not have played the 'classified' card Rosie and Ron would have surely stayed all night and she had already made it abundantly clear to Harry that she wanted to get to work immediately.

As it was, Ron was already on his feet and was in the process of helping Rosaline find hers. "You heard the man, love," he was saying. "Time we were heading home."

There were a few awkward moments as hugs were exchanged between each of the foursome in the too-small space between the coffee table and the couch - none more so that the fleeting embrace Hermione permitted herself with her erstwhile husband. However, before too long, both Rosaline and Ron stood before the fireplace, each clutching a large handful of floo powder.

"Be careful," said Rosaline, stealing another quick hug with her sister and sending copious amounts of powder spilling from her grip where it clung to the fabric of Hermione's clothes.

"Don't worry," put in Harry. "According to our intelligence, it should be a milk run," he concluded using the term that the auror office had appropriated from muggle bomber crews of the second world war to denote an easy task.

Rosaline gave a small, tight smile by way of reply as she released her sister before her eyes widened in sudden realisation.

"You're not going straight away, are you?" she asked, directing her question, not to Hermione, but to Harry. "We've got that - that thing, tomorrow ... remember?"

Harry cupped his chin for a moment. "Yeah, I should think one more day won't hurt. We'll be there."

Upon his agreement, Harry was nearly bowled over by a bushy haired missile that was Rosaline. "Thanks, Harry," she said happily before positively bounding over the grate and onto the hearth. "Come on then, Ron," she added impatiently.

With an apologetic shrug, Ron quickly joined her. "The Burrow," they shouted in unison and promptly disappeared in a haze of green smoke.

Hermione watched until the flames had receded, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she realised that she missed her sister already; leaving was definitely going to be harder that she had thought and she hugged her arms around her torso to provide a modicum of comfort.

"Sorry about that."

Pulled from her silent musings, she could offer only an inarticulate, 'huh?'' in response to Harry's statement. Distracted as she was, although she had registered him speaking, she had not been able to discerned any real meaning from the words.

"I said," repeated Harry pulling her into a one armed hug and guiding her back to the sofa, "that I was sorry for having to mention our trip."

"Actually, I thought that was rather clever," she replied, sculpting her body to his side as they dropped back onto the couch. "This way they know we've got a job to do but they're not going to be constantly asking what it is."

"Like I said, I have my moments," he replied, extracting his arm from behind her back so that he could lean forward and retrieve her mug. "You haven't touched your tea," he said.

"It's cold," Hermione replied, perhaps unnecessarily.

With practised ease, Harry's wand was in his hand almost before she had finished her statement. Using the same spell that Ron had employed earlier, Hermione tea was soon fit for consumption again.

But instead of taking the proffered drink immediately, Hermione could only stare blankly at the mug of steaming hot tea feeling an almost unaccountable sense of loss. It was not that Ron had thought to perform the same action for Rosaline and not her, but that he had never done anything of the sort – in any universe.

Realising that she had remained silent for too long, Hermione filed that thought away for later and snapped herself back to the present. Gratefully accepting the tea she wrapped her palms around the mug so as to leach whatever warmth she could from the ceramic.

"Are you not going to ask then?" said Harry after what could have been just a few seconds or just as easily several minutes.

A frown pulled at Hermione's brow. "Sorry, what?" she answered, worried that she had missed something, Harry's statement seemingly unrelated to anything she recalled him saying in the last few minutes.

"I said, are you not going to ask then?" he repeated with a grin " … About tomorrow?" he added when it became obvious that she still wasn't following him.

Hermione's frown deepened as she mentally rewound their conversation in an attempt to follow his meaning, her eyes widening as she finally connected his statement to Rosaline's parting request. "Oh," she said feeling rather foolish. "Yeah, what was that Rosie wanted you to do tomorrow?"

Harry's grin grew ever wider. "Actually, it's something she wants you for," he corrected.

Not enjoying his obvious amusement at her befuddled state, Hermione set down her tea and folded her arms across her chest, her lips thinning to the smallest of lines.

Taking the hint, Harry elaborated. "Tomorrow's September nineteenth, Hermione."

Eyes widening in understanding, Hermione shook her head from side to side. "Oh no. No way, Harry. We can't go to my … her, birthday party!"

"Actually we can. Or rather, I think we should.

"You said it yourself, you don't want them asking too many questions, and being too busy to go to your own birthday party isn't going to achieve that – especially when I've already told them that our mission is a milk run."

Hermione dropped her chin slightly, her eyes darting from side to side as she tried to pick apart Harry's logic, but found that she was unable to do so. "Fine!" she retorted, "We'll go, but we'll only stay for a little while. Where is it anyway?"

"Can't say. It's a surprise," he replied, the same smug grin briefly making an appearance on his features before withering under the unimpressed glare that Hermione wore. "Okay, okay," he relented, "it's at five o'clock at the Burrow. But you've got to promise to look surprised; all I was supposed to tell you was to wear something nice and that I would pick you up at quarter to five.

"Talking of which, we really should get you home so that you can pick something out … Rosie said it should be something formal," he added with a shrug as if that meant nothing to him.

"But … but," stammered Hermione as Harry took her hand and all but pulled her too her feet.

"She also said I might have to take you shopping if you didn't have anything," continued Harry, apparently blinded to her protests by his attempts to recall everything he had been told.

Releasing her hand and using the same palm to direct her into the hearth by the small of her back, Harry reached for the pot of floo powder and held it out to her, his eyes finally meeting hers.

She wore an expression that was exasperated and amused in equal measures, her head cocked over to the side slightly. "Just one problem," she said with a similar smile to the one Harry had worn earlier. "Where do I live?"


TBC...


Author Musings - I've been desperately trying to get this chapter out quickly (less than a week since my last update on Better Never than Late...almost a record for me!) so that I could publish the party chapter on Hermione's 33rd birthday next week. No idea if I'll manage it, but wish me luck!


Recap

Chapter one - Hermione finds herself addicted to the mirror of erised which taunts her with images of the thing she most desires.

Chapter two- Harry and Ron race to find Hermione who is missing. They locate her moments too late and watch helplessly as Hermione is pulled into the mirror.

Chapter three - Hermione travels through the multiverse, landing in the world where her heart's desire has come to pass.

Chapter four - We learn that Hermione's desire is not, as we had been lead to believe, Harry, but instead her younger sister who died as an infant. In this world she is alive and well and engaged to Ron, a discovery that leads to Hermione running away.

Chapter five - Hermione confesses the truth of her origins to Harry who promises to help her return home. In return, Hermione swears to help Harry find his own version of Hermione whom we learn he is in love with.

Chapter six - We learn that Roslaine's survival in this universe has altered the timeline considerably. Perhaps most notably, Ginny Weasley was killed in the Chamber of Secrets in 1993 leading to Voldemort's resurrection far earlier than in canon. The chapter concludes with the arrival of a furious looking Rosaline Granger.