Hello my lovelies!

So my muse is alive and well for this story. But things just kind of ran away from me and now at least one character is going in an entirely different direction than I had initially planned. We're still on track for the true destination of the story, but I have altered my plans for some of the characters.

I also got sidetracked writing parts of this story that comes in later down the road. I find the mechanics of magical theory to be a fun exercise to write, and I have some pretty interesting ideas in store for the future. This was another chapter that I was worried would be short, but when it got fleshed out it is my longest chapter on this story to date.

Big thanks again to everyone who follows and reviews. It might take me a bit to get the next chapter after this one out, because... I am moving into a gorgeous new apartment soon! So much space, a real garden, clawfoot tub… I think I'm bragging. I feel as though I may have rushed this one and not edited it as strictly as I have some of my others. Please let me know if you catch any big errors!

Xo

zsarah.

May 6, 1974

Compared to the thin rations she had been living on for years, the spread Euphemia had placed out for them was probably one of the richest meals she could remember eating. The lamb was tender and almost melted in her mouth. The roast potatoes were spiced and seasoned in a way that made her linger over each bite. And the vegetables were fresh, green, and something of a novelty to her. She ate slowly, both to savour the tastes, and to avoid making herself ill off of food she wasn't used to. She hadn't been starving by any means, but years of irregular canned, cured, and dry food would shrink anyone's stomach.

The company was pleasant, but there was a lingering tension that she could not quite put her finger on. Perhaps it was something in the way Fleamont and Euphemia shared a look whenever she spoke, or perhaps it was the way her father's right eye twitched slightly whenever Euphemia asked a question. It might have been the way she had to pause before every answer to remember the story she had crafted. But whatever was in the air was subtle enough that, though she was made wary, it did not raise any serious alarm bells.

Euphemia raised her wine glass and took a delicate sip of the complex Bordeaux that may be Hermione's favorite feature of the evening, and looked at her over the glass. Her blue eyes shifted from the neutral and welcoming expression she had worn all evening to flinty and cunning as she glanced between the present company. The change took Hermione off guard and she could do nothing but watch as her host waited until Hector had taken a large bite of lamb to ask the most pointed question of the evening.

"Hector dear." She started without taking her eyes off Hermione, "Do you take us for complete fools." Her hand was steady as she set the glass down. "We're not complete idiots. We are well aware that Hermione is not truly your daughter."

Hermione's spine went ramrod straight, and the wine she had just sipped went down her windpipe with an unpleasant choking sound. After a panicked gasp and short bout of coughing, she was able to breathe again. Once she was sure she would continue to be able to do so, she stared at the woman across from her. Before she could even think of a rebuttal or deny anything, and before Hector was even able to swallow his mouthful of food, Euphemia started speaking again.

"Don't even try to deny it, Hector," her eyes were still locked on Hermione's. "I know you, but I also know magic. It's the only reason I didn't hex you six ways from Sunday in that elevator. It's the only reason I let you both into our home. There may bonds of love between you and this woman, and you're a hair's breadth away from believing the lies you're telling." She broke contact to look between them. "But what you have with her is new. Fresh. What I see are not the bonds you see between a man and the daughter he has loved and raised for years, but the bonds you experience when you hold a newborn for the first time. There is love and hope there, but also fear and uncertainty."

As Hector opened his mouth with what Hermione could only assume was a denial of what he had been accused of, Euphemia cut him off with a harsh gesture, "Don't you dare lie to us. Not to us. We know we are the ones who would be the godparents of any child of yours. It is that fact alone that me you are a liar, Hector."

The feeling of tension had snapped and Hermione's mind was whirling over everything she had just been accused of. The words echoing around in her head; Bonds of love, Lies you're telling, New, Fresh, A newborn, Love, Hope, Fear, Uncertainty... Bonds of love, fresh, bonds, Not the bonds you see, Family, Bonds. Bonds!

If Hermione could have been sitting up any straighter she would have. Euphemia's accusations were forgotten in light of a new train of thought. And though she could see the feelings of hurt and betrayal circling the table, those thoughts were passed aside.

"You can see bonds?" The words were quiet and breathy out of her lips, the thoughts still swirling through her mind.

The only other person she knew who had a gift like that had been Luna, and the odds of meeting two people who had such a talent were staggering. The only family that had manifestations of this variation of the sight in generations were the Lovegoods, and that it was also found in Harry's family history was mind boggling. It was a rare ability that was coveted by many, ran in families, and was only shown in the most powerful of witches and wizards. It was the type of secret so well kept that her closest friend only told her of the ability days before she left for the past, and even then it was a secret that Luna would be taking to the grave. She needed to know if Euphemia was capable of the same things as her lost friend. "What about auras?" Her fears of discovery were forgotten she sat forward in her chair.

She didn't even glance at Hector when he cleared his throat, obviously trying to dissuade her from the line of questioning. "Stop it," Her words were imperative as she waved off her father. "This is important. Can you see auras as well?" If her line of thought was correct then the things Luna had told her about her gift and what to expect in the past would suddenly make much more sense than was reasonable coming from the blonde. A good friend, a bright scholar and a dedicated warrior were all characteristics of her lost friend. But straightforward and easily understood would never describe Luna.

Euphemia sat back in her seat. "Seeing auras? That's a rare gift." she said avoiding the question. "Why would someone hide that kind of ability?"

"Because everyone who has the gift does so. You of all people would know it would make you a target, especially in times like this." Pieces were falling more and more into place. "I need to know; can you read auras? Truly read someone's magic, see its intent." She felt like a fervent devotee praying to every god she didn't believe in that her hunch was right.

Looking between Euphemia and Fleamont, she knew she would get no answers from the Potter's without giving something in return. She steeled herself she reached inside the sheath on her wrist and sliced the tip of her finger. She absently wondered how such a small cut could hurt as much as some of the serious curses she had taken. She knew it had to do with how nerves responded differently to superficial and catastrophic injuries, and how preparation for pain only made one more aware of it. She cleared those irrelevant thoughts from her mind and let a drop of blood fall onto the table in front of her, the meal forgotten.

Her hands moved to the wand handles strapped to both forearms, "On my magic this I vow." She could see how her actions and the formal words caught everyone at the table off guard and as she heard a quiet gasp from her father she continued, "As Hermione Jean Dagworth-Granger I do so swear." She felt the magic take hold of her as she spoke her name, "I vow to do no harm to the family Potter. I vow to hold their secrets in magic as my own. I vow to honor this as a bond of faith and love to the Potter family. I do so swear by name and magic. So mote it be."

Everyone's eyes were on her as she slowly pulled her vinewood wand from its ties and whispered her desired incantation, thinking of her purpose and feeling hope bubble within her as she did so. "Expecto Patronum" Her hope faded slightly and her resolve grew as the silvery otter dove around the room.

As she felt her energy trickling into the familiar spell she thought about how she missed the playful river otter she had first learned how to cast. The new creature had been her companion now for years and though its was still distinctly an otter, it was now much larger than before, with a longer skull and sleeker fur. Pteronura brasiliensis, the giant amazonian otter. Predator of anaconda, piranha, and crocodile. The most aggressive of all Luntinae, but also the most social. She wasn't sure what that said about how she had changed from the girl she used to be to the woman she now was, but she was sure it would be an interesting study.

Shaking off her self-reflection and ending her spell she noticed that her hands were shaking. The patronus charm always did give her trouble and even now it took more strength than it should to cast it even in a controlled environment. Fleamont and Euphemia were both looking at her with a trust and respect that she hadn't even realized was absent before.

"Please, I need to know." Hermione recognized that she was begging, in this there was no room for pride. "I need you to tell me. Do you see bonds and auras?"

"Yes," the response from Euphemia was without hesitation. She held her hand up to stop her husband before he even opened his mouth, "I trust her, Flea. To make a vow like that shows that we mean more to her than we are aware of."

She turned back to Hermione, "It's a frightening gift, but it's how I can see that you were already bound to our family, before meeting us. Before you made that vow though, your bonds weren't directed, and they weren't made by proxy through Hector. It was like you were bound to the idea of our family, or the future of our family. It's an old bond. The vow renewed it and directed it, but your bond to us is strong and matured" There was a crinkle in her brow as her eyes seemed seemed to look past Hermione, "How could you have a previous bond? How is your magic tying you so tightly to the future of our family?" Hermione's decision was made almost instantly at those words.

She looked her father in the eye and stowed her wand, and as he mouthed a question at her, What are you doing? She inclined her head in reply and met the eyes of Euphemia across the table. "I'm going to tell them the truth." She undid the neck clasp of her robes and pulled the bloodstone amulet over her head. As her appearance faded into view, she heard Fleamont take a sharp inhale.

She was glad most of her scars were hidden under her robes and that only her face and hands were visible. But she supposed that the small scars must be even more shocking to those who could magic small wounds away as easily as cleaning a chalkboard. The small white marks traced down one cheek from the time she had failed to turn her face away from flying debris, and the small pink blemish under her mouth marked the time she bit through her lip. The back of her right hand, resting on the table had the same white scars as her cheek, and raw looking pink scars from the multiple times she had split her knuckles.

She figured that if she was going to tell the truth, she might as well bare her soul. So she rolled her tighter black undersleeves up along with the billowy mauve ones to display the pale double banded manacle scars on her wrists. She saw Hector eye the word on her forearm with a mix of emotions and watched horror grow on the Potter's faces as they read it. MUDBLOOD. It started in bold letters in the crook of her elbow and trailed unevenly down until the Os intersected with the newer manacle scars and the D infringed on the base of her palm. It was a word she had heard with regularity by the time she was a teenager, but only realized the true vulgarity of it in adulthood.

She traced the letters as she thought about how to tell her story. "As you can see, I wasn't born a Dagworth-Granger. I was born to muggle dentists in Crowley. They were good parents and raised me as well as any two well adjusted people can raise a child they didn't understand. They always treated me with love and acceptance and when I was eleven and they were told I was a witch, they continued to do so. They were my parents for 18 years of my life. Then I took their memories from them and sent them away to live a new life in a new country rather than watch them die for the crime of being the parents of Britain's most wanted witch."

Hermione continued speaking ignoring the looks of confusion and compassion the Potter's were sending her. "There's no way to ease you into this, and there is no way to make this sound less crazy, but I'm from a world and a time that no longer exists. I come from 30 years in the future and I came back to ensure that no one else experiences the war and genocide that without intervention has become inevitable."

She looked Fleamont in the eyes, "Whenever I hear you speak all I can hear is your grandson. Its why I've been avoiding talking to you, and instead have been making conversation with your wife. Its easier. Growing up we were always told how much he looked like his father. Apparently Harry was the spitting image of James. But if seeing you affects me like this I worry about how I'll respond if I meet James. Especially as the last time I saw Harry alive he was only 17 years old. He was the closest thing I ever had to a brother, and I watched him die to the wand of the madman who killed your son and his wife less than 10 years from now.

"I'm came back to change that. The people who I will know from now on won't be the same people I knew, and my being here could prevent some of them from even being born, but they'll have a chance. They'll have the chance to have childhoods not marred by war and death. To have parents, and siblings, and a chance to grow old with those they love. It was an opportunity we never had before."

She looked to Hector, the man who was helping to make all of this possible, "The Hector I knew in the future was an old man who spent most of his life alone. But when we found out that we shared family, he agreed that coming to him first would be best. It would solidify an identity. But as you said, the lies we were telling are becoming the truth." She rolled her eyes at the sappy look her father was sending her, "He sealed me into the family by magic and will. I am now truly who I said I was." She crossed her fingers under the table as she asked her next question.

"Do you have a pensive? There are some things you all should see from before I came back. And though I do not put much faith in divination, I believe that this may have been fated. I don't want to assume anything of you, but I was given a message from a friend before we took the final steps to send me here, and though I am loath to take anything a Lovegood says literally, she may have been onto something."

When the three others at the table shared a look, Hermione felt like pulling out her hair. "What did I say? I know that look. You know something that I don't, and probably should be aware of."

It was Fleamont's first turn to speak in what felt like an eternity, and he did so with an odd little smirk on his face "After all of that, we certainly have a pensive to share with you. But that name, Lovegood you say? What an odd coincidence, as Lovegood is my wife's maiden name."

Seeing the way the others at the table were looking at her, she felt like she was at a surrealist vision of the Mad Hatter's tea party. So she said the one thing she could thing in response to her new knowledge.

"Fucking hell." She picked up the half empty glass in front of her and drained in dry, feeling half a moment's regret that the wine was wasted on her need for immediate relief. "Let's get to that pensive. Desert should wait until we're done as I'm sure there will be much more to talk about afterwards."