Author's Note: With the major events of the start of summer over, things will start moving a little faster date-wise. This means more, smaller, scenes.
Theoretically, anyway.
Many thanks to both Tyrannic_Puppy for providing comments and beta work on this chapter.
Disclaimer: Did the author change the middle name of one their main characters just so they could give it to a minor villain? If so, I don't own the Harry Potter franchise; it belongs to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Press, Warner Bros., and whoever else she sold the rights to.
8th of July, 1995, Num. 12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London
"Mia? Why do you have the time-turner from my–our third year?" Hermione asked once Sirius had finally had his fill of hearing stories about her time at Hogwarts with Harry for the evening and left them alone in their room.
"It was a gift. A nineteenth birthday present... and the last time she–the older Hermione–spoke to Harry before he died." Mia absently twirled the time-turner on its chain, occasionally twisting the broken housing back into shape before it could fall apart completely.
"Who gave it to her?" Hermione already knew what the answer would be in her heart, but she didn't want to believe it. That her older self would cut Harry off for giving her such a sentimental gift. Why? Why would she?
"Harry." Mia clenched the time-turner in her fist. "It was... it was after the binding had happened. An early birthday in August. Before she went back to Hogwarts for her seventh year. Just after her... return from bringing back her parents..." Mia trailed off quietly, her eyes shut tight and a grimace marring her face.
Hermione leaned over to hug Mia, pressing her cheek against Mia's and wrapping one around the other girl's shoulders. With her other hand she gently grasped the clenched fist holding the time-turner. It was sentiment, pure sentiment. A useless object broken beyond all repair, but it was a memory of helping Harry. Of seeing him joyous for rescuing his godfather, and when proved himself casting the Patronus for the first time.
It mattered. To that older self who had suffered so much, to the one who had been broken once again after being restored, and to herself. Mia would tell her in time, she wasn't holding back. Hermione didn't need to press or push for answers, to hurt her again.
She just need to wait.
For several minutes they sat together. Slightly leaning into one another as she went over the excitement, terror, and closeness she had felt with Harry during that long, long day in June. She hoped Mia was doing the same, dwelling on happier memories, rather than the demons that haunted her.
"They had made us lie, to say our parents were alive... But he, He decided–He wanted to have–to have her alone for enough time, so He had her claim to go to Australia. To retrieve them and their memories." Mia didn't speak loudly nor quickly, and every so often she would quiver and take in a deep breath. Pause and steady herself before continuing.
It sounded so unreal, so unbelievable, but Hermione had already felt some of the emotions which Mia was now experiencing. She couldn't dismiss what she was being told, it was all too understandable now. Too easy for her to relate to the hopeless–helpless–despair they had gone through in that dark future.
Hermione pulled her head away slightly so she could look Mia in the eyes, from which tears were welling up and falling freely. Mia smiled a sad watery smile and began to speak again.
"When she received the gift she was overjoyed, even in the pit which she had been thrown there was still... something. Harry. Hope." Mia stopped talking and bit into her lip, leaving behind a clearly visible mark when she began speaking again minutes later.
"He–Ronald–decided it was... over. He gave her an order, to tell Harry that–" She choked back a sob. "That her parents didn't want her to be endangered by him anymore. That to keep them in her life she would have to give him up."
Hermione scrunched her own face up in sympathy; Harry would never stand between someone and their parents, no matter what. He would have said goodbye and pushed her away himself, despite any feelings of his own. Wasn't it enough, to take away her parents, her choices, her life? Did she have to lose her best friend too?
"He accepted, of course. It wasn't until six years later that they interacted again, and that was– it was–Harry jumped in front of a spell. He took a curse for her and died. He died in her arms."
Hermione closed her eyes and buried her face into Mia's shoulder. The reality of Harry's mortality, the possibility of his death was too easy to contemplate. She could remember seeing Harry badly hurt, nearly dying, more times than she wanted to. His coma after his encounter with Professor Quirrel and Riddle in first year, falling from his broom in third year, the dragon from the first task, and his shaking form clutching Cedric when he escaped from Voldemort at the end of the Tournament.
She took in a shuddering breath–and sobbed as the image of Harry replaced that of Cedric in her mind. His green eyes empty and lifeless, staring at nothing.
"It's okay, Hermione." Mia cooed, "He's alive. Harry's alive and well. Nothing has happened. We're safe. Harry is safe. It won't happen this time."
Hermione nodded slowly, trying not to cry. She hadn't understood on the day she had been collected–kidnapped–by Mia what Mia meant about Harry dying because of her. Because he never gave up on her. Now she did understand, and it hurt. She didn't say anything. She just sat in silence with Mia as they both stared at the time-turner. Stared at the symbol of how much they meant to Harry.
10th of July, 1995, Num. 12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London
It was lunch on the tenth of July that it finally happened. When Hermione had gone to eat without thinking after an exhausting morning's work cleaning rooms for the coming Weasley brood, Mia had nudged her to catch her attention. Mia gestured towards Kreacher who stood quietly in the corner watching them. In his hands was a pair of potion bottles, which he mimed pouring over a stolen sandwich. Her stomach rebelled, she had been thinking and contemplating what it meant to be fed potions against her will for days. Ever since she had promised that she would trust Mia.
She pulled off part of one of her sandwiches and held it below the table, carefully casting the revealing spell on it out of sight of both Sirius and Mrs Weasley. The food glowed. A light, faded blue, threaded with a vibrant, shimmering, pink and a soft, diffused green. A mixture of emotion suppression, loyalty and attraction potions, according to the books Mia had provided her with on that final day of June.
She felt sick, like she wanted to vomit. She dropped the piece of food she had taken to the floor and covered her mouth with her hand. Next to Her Mia was simply staring at her food.
"I–I'm not feeling well," Hermione managed to say through the cover of her hand. "I'm going back to my room." She got up and left, leaving behind a frowning Mrs Weasley and Sirius, who both stared after her as she went. Mia didn't take long to follow behind and brought both plates of sandwiches with her. They walked back to their room in silence–as much as Hermione wished she could speak on the way they couldn't. They needed the privacy of the master bedroom's wards.
Once they were safely ensconced in the room, Mia managed to get the first word in. "A bit abrupt, Hermione, we can't risk raising her–Molly's–suspicion too much." The way Mia said Mrs Weasley's name like a curse had never seemed more appropriate than that moment.
"I know. I just..."
"I understand. It all came crashing down at once, didn't it?
"Yes," and that was it, Mia understood. She understood perfectly. "Thank you."
"What?" Mia paused as she was putting the plates down on the desk in the room and turned to look at Hermione with a raised brow. "Why did you thank me?"
"Because you are here. Because you are stopping this."
"Oh. I," Mia blushed. "You're welcome, Hermione. I want... to thank you too, for believing me. For trusting me." Mia smiled brightly, putting the plates down and drawing her wand. "Now, lets figure out exactly what they put in these. While I do have general flushing draughts for emergencies, knowing and making a specific antidote would be far simpler. Not to mention less..." She trailed off, sticking her tongue out and gagging. "Eugh. Let's just say flushing potions are terrible to take, and leave it at that."
Hermione was curious, as she always was, but she remembered seeing mention of flushing potions in one of her potions books, so she left Mia to her task and went to find the answer herself. It didn't take too long to check through the books, and when she had finished she agreed with Mia completely. Flushing potions dealt with foreign agents by the simplest method possible: voiding everything. They had to be accompanied by an immense intake of water due to loss of fluids along with a healthy diet to recover from the ordeal over the next few weeks. An option of last resort to deal with an unknown agent in the body.
She had begun to go through all the books looking for the texts on brewing counter-agents and antidotes when she remembered something important, that both of them had forgotten.
"Kreacher?"
With a pop he appeared in the room. "Yes, Mudblood girl?" His tone was condescending, but lacking much of his usual spite. Something she attributed to the help she and Mia had given him in protecting the Black family heirlooms over the last two days.
"Thank you for warning us."
"We have a deal, girl-spawn of muggles. Kreacher upholds word and honour of Noble House of Black, would even with filth." He sneered. "Is there anything else?"
Hermione blinked at Kreacher's words, uncertain of the implications of his phrasing. "Ah... are you able to... prevent her potioning our food?" Did he imply we weren't filth? That's… that would be progress!
"Kreacher could swap Mudblood's meals with another, but traitor-broodmare watches her food too carefully when cooking." His shrivelled ears flopped back and forth as he shook his head. "Not work now. Need more meals to swap food with, more plates than traitor-broodmare can watch. Good way to pay blood-traitors back for defiling house of Black." He stopped suddenly, going still. After a moment his eyes widened at Hermione, and he bared his teeth. "Kreacher will keep wretched mudblood girls safe, yes. Kreacher will do as he must to avenge his master."
He popped away abruptly. Why did he stop like that and leave like that? It was almost like we were getting along. Hermione shook her head, her untamed hair bouncing everywhere. Heaving a sigh she went back to her books, leaving the issue of angry house-elves for another time. She had methods with which to protect herself she needed to study. Ones she was now certain would only become more necessary as time went on.
Unfortunately there was a distinct lack of general purpose counter-agents for potions like those she was faced with. Poisons were far easier, the Bezoar was a general purpose counter-agent that worked on anything. To some degree, at least.
Almost all of the counter-agents she managed to find in her and Mia's books were for specific potions, sometimes specific variants of a potion. Only a scant few worked on a wider spectrum, and all of those were anti-lust potions. Love, loyalty, emotion dampening, and fake emotion potions all required specific agents. The books even noted that many potions didn't have any counter-agents!
There were so many variations on potions that stole someone's free will or controlled their emotions it made her feel ill. Magic was wonderful, amazing, inspiring, but it could also permit the most vile of violations. That there were more ways to steal away a person's free will than to heal cuts or broken bones made Hermione sick to her stomach.
"I'm not sure I want to stay in the magical world." Hermione said, as she dropped the book beside her and clutched at her roiling stomach.
"What?"
"How can there be so many ways for people to take control of people like that? Half of them aren't even illegal, just restricted! It's as if wizards spend more time trying to enslave one another rather than making their own lives better, or think that the only way for someone to feel love is through a potion! I thought house elves were bad, that slavery was wrong, but this isn't any better. Maybe it's even worse, a secret sort of slavery.
"I don't know why." Mia answered, frowning at the results of her spells she had been casting. "It's part of their culture, in a way. The parents decide for their children, and compliance is forced by any means necessary. It was much worse in the past. Back then arranged marriages were the norm, and if the match wasn't mutually loving... it could be made to be." Mia turned to Hermione and looked her in the eye. "If, once we're done saving Harry and have graduated from Hogwarts, we want to leave the wizarding world... we'll need to keep up with our muggle education."
"We're already years behind."
Mia smiled encouragingly. "You can catch up. You know you can. The only problem would be convincing Harry to come with us."
"With how you've said everyone treats him and how he feels about his fame would it really be that hard?"
Mia turned back and cast one more spell on her samples as Hermione watched. "Maybe, maybe not. It's better than the Dursleys but–Merlin! That–that bitch!" Mia leapt up from the desk and stood there quivering with her hands clenched at her sides while she glared at the offending plate of food.
Hermione recoiled backwards away from Mia. "What?"
"The emotional manipulation potions in the food, they're there to make us forget our parents and replace them in our heads with Molly." Mia growled, "They had to have taken hair from the dummies I made. The keying isn't real enough to work, but that's definitely where they got it from." After a few more moments shaking and glaring she tore herself away and dropped onto the bed next to Hermione.
"I hate her. I will always hate her. I don't want you to think less of me, Hermione, but I think I'm going to kill her before the end."
A shiver ran down Hermione's spine at the finality of Mia's statement. Carefully she reached out and grabbed her counterpart's hand and gave it a squeeze. "Hopefully it won't come to that." She said softly, hoping that Mia wouldn't have to go done the path that had led to their older self killing Neville like she had. That Mia could at least retain some of her innocence in this... war.
11th of July, 1995, Num. 12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London
The last three days had all been busy, even the disturbing and sickening truth of the potions in Mrs Weasley's food hadn't been enough to stop them from being forced into more work. Mrs Weasley, it turned out, thought leisure activities, such as studying, reading, and talking all made for idle hands, and as that old saying goes, idle hands are the devil's playthings. Not that Mrs Weasley had used, or even knew, that particular Muggle phrase.
Thanks to Mrs Weasley's overbearing attempts to mother them both They had only managed to escape her growing presence in the mornings before breakfast. The rest of the time they were ordered around and followed to ensure they at least began to obey, or were ranted at for being lazy and unhelpful. It was tempting to just stay in their room where Mrs Weasley couldn't reach them, but it would just make things worse in the long run.
Since it was the only time they could sneak away each morning Mia apparated them back into the dungeons. They had cleared and cleaned the old duelling chamber to use for practising self-defence. Not that they had gotten particularly far yet; Mia only had her doing dodging drills and exercising so far–neither of which she was enjoying at all. Hermione would much rather be reading more books from the library than jumping about in a dark padded room.
The rest of their days had been filled with carefully sorting–without touching–dangerous dark items from the more benign heirlooms that filled the house and wiping out infestations of magical pests. Not every room had something maliciously dangerous in it, but every single one had been infested by at least one sort of magical creature. Fortunately Mrs Weasley never bothered to supervise the two of them, so they could make use of their wands freely. Hermione still found the idea of using spray bottles to fight venomous creatures like Doxies ridiculous. No matter what Lockhart had to say on the matter.
Kreacher had been helpful as well, taking away everything that wasn't dangerous but would have otherwise been thrown out and secreting them away. Some items Hermione felt a little leery about, like the blood-trackers and health monitors. However, just as Mia had said, blood magic wasn't good or bad... just dangerous and mis-usable. Just like all magic could be misused, really. She hadn't thought much of cheering charm when they learnt it in third year, believing it somewhat frivolous. Now... now it seemed much like the Draught of Sorrow she had taken, or the anti-grief potions Mrs Weasley had tried slip into their food.
Without consent, the charm would be a clear violation of a person's free will. Lesser in degree to something like the Imperius Curse, but a violation nevertheless.
All of that needed to be put aside, however, as today was the day the Weasleys were arriving. Ron, Fred, George, Ginny, Mrs Weasley and Mr Weasley would be arriving, having dinner, and taking up residence. If Mrs Weasley had had her way they would have been forced out of their room and in to one with Ginny. Thankfully Sirius had put his foot down. He was taking her side a lot for some reason, and he was even keeping their secrets. He hadn't mentioned Mia's taking control of the master bedroom's wards at any point, not even to her or Mia.
Hermione forced herself to cut her introspection short as Ginny stepped out of the kitchen's fireplace.
"Hi, Hermione!" Ginny said, a slight smile crossed her face. "Wow, there really are two of you. You need to tell me that story."
Hermione grimaced and quietly said, "I would... rather not, Ginny, if that's alright."
Ginny frowned, but didn't get a chance to speak as the twins barrelled out of the Floo together.
They both had manic grins across their faces as they looked Hermione and Mia over. "Well, look at that–" "–someone decided they needed to emulate–" "–the best Weasleys of all–" "–and make themselves a twin." One of the two started scratching his chin while the other gave a short bow. "While we are flattered,–" "–you will need–" –to tell us how–" "–you achieved such a feat–" "–if you wish to enter our good graces–" "–for good, Miss–" "–future prefect."
Hermione let out a sigh at the same time Mia did the same then rolled her eyes at them. She knew that the twins had every intention of making her time as a prefect as difficult as they had made Percy's. She looked up at them with a frown, and by the suddenly raised eyebrows on the three Weasley's faces she knew she had been in sync with Mia once again. They're going either going to praise us for that, or claim we're copying their style… and I don't know which would be worse.
Ron was the next to stumble out of the Floo, and just as Hermione had expected she saw Mia tense out of the corner of her eye. She grabbed Mia's hand in an attempt to support her. Hermione was well aware Ron would be the hardest person for Mia to confront of them all, but if she could manage this they were going to be fine.
"Blimey, I thought Mum was joking when she said there were two of you." Ron had that same lopsided grin on his face that he always did when he thought he was being funny. "Guess I'll have twice as much of an easier time with homework now with you around, eh?" He moved up to them and, as Hermione had stepped forward, threw an arm around Hermione's shoulder.
"Honestly, Ron! You need to do your own homework so you understand it." Hermione said exasperatedly, with none of the emotion at all faked. "I'm not helping you until you finish them yourself, and even then I'll only check them over." She glared at him until he let go of her and backed off slightly.
"Oh come on, Hermione." He looked between the two of them. "Hermione? Um. Er... This is confusing. I know! I should give you nicknames! Hermione's always been such a handful to say anyway," his smile grew into a smirk as he spoke, "and since there are two of you we need something to tell you apart." His smirk had grown as wide as it could and his eyes glinted in a way that showed he thought that he had just had the most brilliant idea. "So," he pointed at Mia, "you can be... Miney," He pointed at Hermione, causing her to frown. "and you can be Herms!"
Hermione bristled, insulted by the horrible nickname he tried to give her–her name is hers. She is proud of it and its origins, but before she could speak herself Mia exploded at him.
"My name is Hermione Jane Granger! Not 'Miney'! Not 'Herms'! Don't you ever call me or her either of those!" Mia was shaking, vibrating, her arms were held tightly to her side, her fists clenched, and her legs were set in a combative stance Hermione recognised from their self-defence practice.
Ron, however, didn't back down. "Jane?" He said with his eyes wide and ears turning red. "I thought your middle name was Jean!"
Hermione hissed through her teeth. She knew that she had told him, even if it had been nearly two years ago. Maybe at some other time it would have been easily forgivable, but right then? If things had been more real it would have been far too hurtful. "I was named after my mother." Hermione said coldly, "My mother Jane Anne Granger." Hermione forced herself to sob as best as she could. "My dead Mum... you don't even remember her NAME!" She hadn't meant to shout at the end, but her anger with Ron had become more real than she had expected.
Mia squeezed the hand that they hand kept linked throughout the Weasley's arrival. Everyone else in the room had gone quiet at her outburst, and Sirius was off to the side shaking his head with a frown on his face.
"You don't even remember, do you? We went to Hogsmeade in third year, without Harry. It was Mum's... Mum's birthday in October. So I got her a present and you asked why I bought something so fun." She glared at him, remembering the insult from two years ago. "I told you it was for my mother. I had the shopkeep write her name on it in front of you! And you forgot! She's dead and you forgot!"
Hermione was breathing heavily from all the shouting. Ron, still stood in front of her, had turned red either from embarrassment or anger–it was impossible to tell with him.
"You even went with me to the post office to send it! You heard me tell the owl where to go and who to give it to!"
Despite knowing her parents weren't dead, that they were safe, and far away from Britain, Hermione still found herself losing control. She hadn't gotten to see her Mum or Dad this summer since both had been sent to France before the Express had even left Hogwarts. The fact that Ron, someone she had considered her friend, could be so insensitive about her name–about her mother's name when he thought her Mum was dead, it hurt.
She held tightly onto Mia's hand as she stormed out of the room, dragging Mia along all the way up to their bedroom where she threw herself onto the bed with a cry of outrage.
A hand came to rest on Hermione's shoulder. "Don't let him get to you, Hermione, not by just being who he is. He's not worth the anger, frustration, or the time." Mia said, her own voice failing to hide her anger. "The best thing we can do for now is just ignore Him. He'll hate us for doing that, and that just makes it all the better."
Hermione nodded stiffly and lay herself down on the bed, one arm covering her eyes as she tried to calm her breathing and heartbeat. I don't know why I expected better from Ron. It's not like this is the first he has been so thoughtless and hurtful. Hermione rolled onto her side and caught Mia's gaze. She nodded at Mia in wordless agreement, too angry to speak.
Unless Ron apologised she would treat him just as he had treated her in third year, and how he had treated Harry last November. It was a good excuse to avoid him, since he could well be in on the plot to potion them. Of all the things Ron was, he wasn't a snitch. He could be keeping a secret from them if he wanted to.
12th of July, 1995, Num. 12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London
Hermione was certain yesterday could have gone worse, but it could also have gone much better. Him putting his foot in his mouth like he did and upsetting her other self had been hurtful, but also helpful in its own way. In a way she was happy he had done it. Her duplicate was now stubbornly ignoring him much like she herself was; much to his frustration since he desperately wanted someone to play chess with or talk quidditch at. Ginny, Fred, and George all refused since they were long since bored of his rather lacklustre range of interests.
She wasn't all too sure how she felt about Ginny and the twins. Hermione knew the twins would propagate love potions to the masses, something she despised, but they didn't seem the type to be involved in what had happened to her older self. Fred had been dead and George catatonic with grief by the time her older self had gotten free, so she didn't know if they had been involved or not. Ginny had been part of it by the end, but only after she had already started dating Harry. If her string of boyfriends had been any indication she had been over her crush before they had kissed in sixth year.
They still bore watching, they were Weasleys after all, but that didn't mean she could condemn them all without justification. She didn't want to be the Hermione who killed everyone who had hurt her. Neither Harry nor her counterpart would ever look at her with anything other than loathing if she went down that path.
No matter how much she just wanted to take Him and rip His balls off and feed them to the crows, she couldn't do it. Not yet anyway. Maybe they would want to do it themselves when he showed his true colours.
Hurt me. Ruined everything. Deserves to suffer.
She would just have to be patient.
In the meantime Hermione had a duplicate that needed teaching. Dodging spells, and being fit enough to keep dodging spells for elongated periods of time was only the first thing she needed to learn. Spell chaining and fighting back would come later. Preferably when Harry was around as well. Hermione was well aware that she defaulted to tactics a little too lethal for practice spars, and they would benefit from learning together.
–oOoOo–
"Cm'on, H'rmi'ne!" He, as ever, was speaking with his mouth full. Not quite spraying food everywhere, thankfully, but mangling English in a way no native speaker should ever be permitted to. Not to mention the disgusting display presented within his yawning maw of a mouth every time he did speak.
He swallowed noisily and smacked his lips before he spoke again. "You need to stop ignoring me! Fred and George refuse to play Chess so you've got to play against me."
Lunch was becoming another tiresome affair, but Hermione's other half needed to eat if their morning exercises were ever going to make a difference. Kreacher had assured them before breakfast that with more mouths at the table he would be able to swap the meals around and no potions would reach their food. Instead some unlucky redhead would get to experience their mother's lovely special food. That idea of Ginny, one of the twins–or maybe even the Mother Weasel herself becoming attracted and loyal to dear Ronald was an amusing one. It wasn't even likely to get linked back to them. After all, it was exactly what a malicious house elf might do to unwanted guests.
"Dear brother mine–" "–of ours,–" "–one might suspect that the lady is a mite–" "–pissed off–" "–that you forgot her deceased mother's name."
"It was years ago! How was I supposed to remember?" His ears turned red as he shoveled more food into his maw.
Hermione rubbed her head in response to the twin-patter. She was shankful she and her counterpart hadn't quite started doing that. Occasionally saying the same thing at the same time was fine, as was reacting to events in similar was. They thought very similarly after all. Finishing each other's sentences, however, would just be annoying.
"They're right Ron. I don't think Hermione's going to even look at you until you apologise." Ginny said as she finished her plate of food.
He glared at Ginny. "She's the one who blew up at me!"
Trying to guess who was the lucky red-head to get the potion doses was an interesting game. Not quite enough to let her ignore the conversation, but it helped keep her mind off of the fact she was sitting at a table with Him.
Fortunately they had both finished eating by the time Sirius opened the kitchen's dingy little window to let Hedwig and Pidwidgeon fly in. Pidwideon landed next to Ron, who ignored his owl in favour of devouring his food as swiftly as humanly possible. No matter how disgusting that act was to those around him.
Hedwig landed gracefully on Hermione's left shoulder bearing only a single letter; one addressed to her and her counterpart once more. Hermione dared a glance at Molly, who was looking at Hedwig with a frown.
"Come on Hedwig, we can read Harry's letter in our room. I think I've even got some owl treats somewhere."
She hadn't spoken very quietly so Molly's huff was entirely expected. The glare from Him was a bit more surprising, but then he never did like when Harry paid attention to anyone other than himself. Hermione and her younger self didn't take long to leave the room, both ignoring Molly's reminder to write the reply where she could see it.
–oOoOo–
Having a midday drink with Tonks wasn't what Sirius had planned after his lunch, but the Hermione twins hadn't been in the mood for him pestering them for stories since the Weasleys had arrived. He had though they were on good terms, but after Ronald's impressive display upon his arrival…
He couldn't really blame them for ignoring him. It did, however, leave the house even more dreary than ever. Molly had spent hours trying to get him to force them in with Ginevra, to settle them down so they could just get over their grief.
It was enough to drive a man to drink, but at least he had a drinking buddy for once.
"I just... I messed up. I wanted to make friends with him. He's my only cousin other than you who doesn't suck." Tonks was nursing a glass of Firewhisky as she talked–her third of the evening. "I didn't know who it was, should've been given pictures of his friends so I knew who was cool and who wasn't. Not that the sudden twin thing wouldn't have forced me to do something..."
Sirius chuckled, "But at least you wouldn't have tried to rip a crying girl away from him just after she lost her parents?"
"Yeah, that."
"They'll forgive you eventually. You just need a chance to talk to them."
"I tried! She looked like she was gonna murder me. Didn't find me funny neither."
"Well," Sirius tip a sip of his own drink. "I know how to get them to forgive you. I've got something that needs to be given to Harry..." Sirius trailed off, something had just passed through the wards. No, someone had passed through the wards. Someone apparated past them. Since he hadn't given anyone permission to apparate across the ward boundary yet it was a little alarming.
He would've jumped up and checked immediately if it hadn't been someone apparating out of the house. Whoever it was had already been inside, so they were meant to be here. If that was one of the girls... He shook his head and downed his drink. Deal with that later, get the mirror to Harry first.
"Sirius, Dumbledore's already pissed Harry knows what he does. I'm not sure I should..."
"What does it matter? Harry already knows you're watching him, so it's not like you showing up is revealing a secret. I'm not asking you to do much, just give him an early birthday present. It's secure, safe, and it'll keep him out of trouble."
Tonks sighed, shaking her head. "... Alright, I'll bite. What is it?"
"A mirror. It's linked to another one I've got. It'll let him talk safely without needing to use letters. Something he needs, Tonks, he watched a schoolmate die and he's stuck stewing in his room. Hell, he's probably killing himself over what happened to the Grangers, blaming himself for it because they were his friends."
"Agh! You're right! We're not supposed to leave Auror's that lost their partners alone, let alone a traumatised kid! The bloody hell's Dumbledore thinking?" She downed her drink and belched the resultant flame loudly. "I'll take it to him. My next shift's on the fourteenth, so I'll hand it over as soon as I'm alone on watch. Probably best not to blab about it; I'm not sure the Headmaster would agree with us."
"Probably not," Sirius refilled Tonks' drink and poured himself a new one. "But if he won't look after Harry after the crap he's gone through, someone else has to do it."
Tonks cradled her drink to her chest and grinned at Sirius. "He's family. We've not got much of that, not ones who're worth calling family anyway."
Sirius grinned back. "Glad to be included, Nymmie."
Tonks pouted and stuck her tongue out at him. "Sod off, Mutt."
–oOoOo–
Hermione disappeared from the bedroom she shared with her counterpart with a soft, almost silent, Crack. She wasn't going far. Just a little outside the house into the park square opposite 12 Grimmauld Place. Her other self had gone to give Molly their letter, but Hermione needed to test a theory.
The idea that Molly was messing with their mail.
If she couldn't apparate–which she obviously wasn't supposed to be able to do and was technically breaking the law by doing–neither of them would be able to get out of the house at all. The front door was keyed to only be opened by specific people, the windows were locked, the back garden was completely sealed off due to dangerous plants and the Floo was either under watch or sealed. They were imprisoned in the house, much like Sirius' was.
Which meant her only available route of contacting Harry was through letters. Letters which Molly insisted on sending in batches with other people's mail, so she had ample access to the letters before they were given to Hedwig to take to Harry. More than enough of an opportunity to edit them.
Harry's reply to their last letter hadn't made much sense to Hermione or her duplicate. He had asked questions she had answered in her letter, and while it was possible he didn't believe they were busy cleaning an old house it seemed far more likely someone had altered the letter they had sent.
He'd even complained about them keeping secrets, but they weren't. At least, not secrets about what he was asking. The accusation had hit a little close to home, and Hermione–her duplicate–had been upset all through writing their reply.
She waited in the bushes of the park for ten minutes before the owls started leaving. She gave a sharp whistle and called out to Hedwig as loudly as she could without alerting those in the house as to where she was. Hedwig was obviously a little confused at being called, but she was quite used to delivering letters for Hermione, so she flew down and landed on her shoulder. Hedwig nipped Hermione on the ear forcefully, not quite drawing blood, but definitely not the affectionate nips she normally gave..
"Sorry, Hedwig, I know this is strange and I shouldn't have bothered you when you were in flight.
Hedwig ruffled her feathers and shook the leg her letters were tied to, as if to say it would be acceptable so long as Hermione had something for her to deliver.
"I was just worried Molly–" Hermione spat the word harshly enough her shoulders shook slightly, causing Hedwig to flap her wings to retain balance. "–Sorry. I think Molly might have been tampering with my mail, the letters from me to Harry."
The moment Hermione mentioned mail tampering Hedwig's feathers puffed up and she cried out loudly. She shuffled around on Hermione's shoulder and twisted her head to stare Hermione dead in the eye.
"It's completely and utterly wrong, I know. I and my other self wrote two letters for Harry. One which we gave to Molly to give to you, and one I'm carrying right now; if I'm right I'll swap them so Harry knows what's happening."
Hedwig's stare abated and she looked down at three three letters tied to her leg. After a few moments she barked frustratedly, and pushed the letters out to so Hermione could examine them and find the one she and her counterpart had wrote.
She read over the letter and found most, if not all, of the information they had put in had been cut out. A few sections about Ron and the rest of the Weasleys being there had been added, as if to taunt Harry he was alone for the summer. Whoever had changed the letter had made it so it was taunting, hinting, and utterly useless to Harry.
They were trying to make it out like she didn't want to tell Harry anything. As if she wasn't being careful about information properly and just refused to tell him anything at all. Even that they were mostly just busy studying and cleaning.
"I think, Hedwig, that I hate that woman."
Hedwig barked softly and twisted her head to catch Hermione's eye.
"Oh, no, you're right. I don't think, I know I hate her. Despise her. I'm almost tempted to turn her into a mouse and let you play with her, she did tamper with your mail after all." Delving into thoughts of revenge was a calming exercise for Hermione. One she tried not to indulge in too much because she knew if she acted on even one of her ideas, just one of her urges, any chance of staying close to Harry was gone. Both he, and her still unconvinced other half, would hate her for going dark, evil.
She did worry that she might go dark and turn evil at times. It was pretty hard to argue that the elder Hermione hadn't; for all that her anger had been justifiable. Even so, the temptation of giving in and taking revenge on those around her, listening to the darker whispers that lurked in her mind, it was hard to resist.
So many of the examples and training memories had paired up with acts of revenge it was hard to separate herself from the woman who killed so easily, who hated herself and the world with every breath, but Hermione wasn't that woman. She wasn't proud of what her older self had done, but if things turned out the same as they had she doubted that she wouldn't do the exact same thing.
Hedwig nipped her ear, pulling Hermione out of her thoughts. "Oh, sorry, Hedwig." Hermione blinked at Hedwig, feeling strangely chastised by the owl. She rummaged around in her expanded bag and pulled out two letters, tying one to Hedwig's leg. The other she kept in her hand.
"Hedwig, does anyone try to intercept you while you're flying?"
Hedwig puffed up her feathers and glared at Hermione again, forcing her to clarify.
"I'm not asking if you do get intercepted. I'm asking if anyone tries. I know you're good enough to avoid them."
Hedwig's feathers settled slightly. She shook her head and gave a short, questioning, bark.
"Alright, this letter is for Vault Keeper Ripstalk of Gringotts Wizarding Bank. If you take it to him he'll give you a tag, a Gringotts' mail owl tag. It will let him call you–"
Hedwig buffeted Hermione's head with a wing.
"–ack, call you for Harry's Gringotts business. He's never had a Gringotts letter because he's under a mail ward and very few owls can reach him." Hermione rubbed her face where Hedwig had hit her, careful to avoid jostling Hedwig. "There are a lot of letters he has missed because of that, and some important ones will be needing to be sent soon. That's why I'm offering you this letter of introduction."
Hedwig shuffled on Hermione's shoulder, as if she was getting ready to take off and fly away.
"If I leave the letter here in the bushes under a charm you could come back and collect it when you've made a decision? You don't have to do it now."
Hedwig, just like Hermione had hoped, took that as a challenge. She snatched up the letter in her beak flew south-south-west, directly towards Diagon Alley.
"Safe flight, Hedwig." Hermione called, before she apparated back into her shared bedroom in Grimmauld Place.
14th of July, 1995, Num. 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey
Harry found himself sitting on the swings in the park on Magnolia Road late at night again, wishing that Hermione was with him. He'd come back to this same spot numerous times since the sixth. Each time remembering how upset they had been, and how it was his fault. Hermione was targeted because she was his friend, because by being his friend attacking her would send a message.
He idly kicked at the gravel by his feet, spraying it into the air and sending him swinging slowly. Harry had kicked the drunk much the same way the evening after Hermione had been taken. Waking him up from his stupor in Aunt Petunia's rose bushes. The rose bushes Harry had needed to carefully bring back into shape before he got blamed for ruining his Aunt's chance at winning a gardening award this year. Wouldn't have been his fault, as if it ever was, but it's not like she cared.
Everything was getting worse. No one believed Voldemort was back, no one believed him about how Cedric had died, and no one was preparing for things like the attack on Hermione. Even the Order, whatever they were, wasn't helping. They were just stealing Hermione's mail and mangling it. That had gotten him mad all over again! He had completely ignored the rest of the letters Hedwig had brought after reading it. He still hadn't touched them, he wanted to hear from Hermione again first. If she was right and Mrs Weasley was the one altering her letters... he didn't know what he'd do.
Molly hadn't liked Hermione since the Rita Skeeter articles. That much had been clear in the howler she had sent after the Yule Ball. He had thought she would have understood that Hermione hadn't done anything and she had just gone to the ball with Krum because he had asked when no one else had. Harry now knew he should have asked her; it would have been far nicer than going with Parvati at least. Not that anything bad had been Parvati's fault since he had been the one distracted by Hermione and Cho.
He had made a lot of mistakes over the last year, and even more in the years before. Now that he knew he'd gotten Hermione's parents killed, her kidnapped, and nearly... nearly... that. He shuddered, his blood burning and heart pounding at the thought of something so horrible happening to his best friend.
Harry really just wanted to see her again. To apologise for not doing enough for her, and tell her it was okay if she hated him for putting her in so much danger. He wasn't so stupid as to think she would hate him, or even step away at all, but he had to tell her it would be okay anyway. He wouldn't let her sense of responsibility put her in more danger by staying at his side, not unless she wanted to be there for her own reasons.
He blushed as he thought of the kiss she had given him at King's Cross and the way they had clung to him after they had escaped the Death Eaters.
Harry's thoughts were cut short by a rustling sound in the gravel, and when he snapped his head around he could see faint footprints left by someone invisible. He clenched his fists and hopped off of the swing, rounding on where he thought the guard must be standing. He discovered he had misjudged by a fair bit when a hissed whisper came from just off to his left.
"Psst! Harry!"
He recognised the voice as being one from when Hermione was taken away from him. Although he couldn't quite remember her name. He turned to face where the voice had come from and glared as best he could at the invisible woman.
"... Not happy with me, okay, I get that. I've got something for you though–from Sirius. It's... it's a way to talk to him. Him and the girls." There were a few moments of rustling before she shrugged off her cloak and stood in front of him, smiling weakly. "Really, it's quite awesome. Neat bit of magic he and his friends made back in school for detentions or somethin'. Don't know how it works myself, though."
Harry just kept glaring at her–he was interested, sure, but he was also angry and she was there. Standing in front of him and pretending she hadn't done anything wrong.
"You're mad at me, aren't you." She deflated, almost literally as her brightly coloured purple hair faded to a dull brown and became limp. "I–I really am sorry, you know. You're my cousin and I'm supposed to keep you safe; a girl I didn't know, two of 'em, run at you out of nowhere and attach themselves? You're not really known for being close to any twin girls." She shook her head. "I messed up, I admit that. I'm trying to make up for it. Dumbledore'll be pissed if he finds out I spoke to you at all, let alone gave you something."
"Okay." Harry crossed his arms in front of him. He stopped glaring quite so hard and looked–Tonks! That was her name–Tonks over and watched as she fumbled around with a bag worn across her shoulder. Wait a second... "Cousin?"
"Yeah, I'm your cousin–second cousin something or other. Your Nan, Dorea Black, was my great granddad's sister. Sirius' too, though he's one generation up from me." Tonks pulled a packaged wrapped in dull brown cloth out of the bag. "Great! Here, you take it–knowing my luck I'll drop it if I try to unwrap it. Not gonna' bugger this up again."
"Sirius is your uncle?" Harry asked as he started carefully unwrapping the package.
"What?" She paused briefly. "No, he's my Mum's cousin. My aunt's are... nowhere near as nice as Sirius, and that's putting it politely." She grinned at him as he finished unwrapping a mirror from the cloth. "Tap your wand on it and say 'Padfoot'. Come on, he's waiting."
Harry looked away from Tonks and down at the mirror. It didn't look terribly magical, just a slightly awkwardly sized hand mirror with a stand on the back. Half expecting a prank of some sort he pulled out his wand and tapped the mirror. "Padfoot."
Within a few moments the mirror stopped reflecting Harry's face and showed a familiar, but far different one. The face of Sirius Black.
"Harry! Great, Tonks got it too you. You're outside, right? I'd love to talk now–got plenty I want to tell you, and the girls too. I mean, they have stuff they want to tell you, but not out in public like that. Call again once you get back to your room, okay?"
Harry was stunned, it had actually worked. He was talking to Sirius directly, without having to wait for letters or worry about them being messed with. "Okay," he mumbled.
"Good. See you soon, Harry." Sirius smiled widely, then vanished from the mirror. Harry was disappointed to see him go, but he also understood. He could talk to his godfather when he got back to his room and he wasn't risking breaking the law.
"Tonks?" He said, still a little dazed.
"Yeah, cous'?"
"Thanks." He paused. "Apology for... taking and upsetting Hermione accepted." He grinned at her. "Can't say they'll forgive you yet, though."
Her hair sprang up and returned to its earlier shade of purple. "Great! But, could you maybe put a good word in for me with your girlfriend at least? She keeps trying to murder me with her eyes, and honestly, it's a little scary."
Harry blushed and mumbled that Hermione wasn't his girlfriend, before running off back to Num. 4 Privet Drive. He had never been more eager to go back to his little bedroom and lock himself away with his relatives.
Author's Note: Cue reviews saying that Dorea wasn't his grandmother, Euphemia was, etc. etc.
Meh. That's only true through Pottermore, there is no primary source for Harry's grandparents. Fleamont and Euphemia aren't even named in the primary material, the Black connection is more interesting, and Charlus and Dorea are at least mentioned in the books.
