AN: Apologies for the long wait. I had lost sight of my original plan and "end game" for this story, but I think I may be back on track now. This will likely never be a story that has regular updates, but I hope that now that I'm reinspired for this story, I'll be able to write with a touch more regularity. Please enjoy!

It was late, the moon high in the sky by the time Hermione returned home. Her old body was aching, and she longed for her bed, but she was also filled with a joy that warmed her against the cold better than any cloak ever could. In a manner of days, she had changed the events of her past in ways that could only be for the better. Harry was with her, and would grow up loved and knowledgeable about his identity. Sirius had been saved from twelve years of Azkaban for a crime he did not commit, while the real culprit, the traitor Peter Pettigrew, was now known for what he was. The people who loved Harry would be present in his life, and Hermione knew he deserved nothing less. In this lifetime, at least, Harry would grow up surrounded by the love he deserved- Hermione would be sure of that.

Ernest was still up when Hermione entered the flat, which surprised her. He had likely had as busy a day as her, taking care of Harry, the flat, and setting up the shop. But then, she supposed to herself, he's still young, and full of energy. I likely was the same way at twenty. He rushed over when he saw Hermione enter, and helped her pull off her cloak.

"I thank you, Ernest," Hermione murmured, as she sank down into the nearest chair, her eyes heavy, and her old limbs complaining.

"It's no problem at all!" He replied in his sing-song voice, as he hung up her cloak. Hermione looked around, and saw that the flat was pristine, a warm fire crackling in the fireplace. She was pleased, and thought to herself that Ernest had been a treasured find, indeed.

"How was Harry?" She asked, as she held her hands up the fire, to warm them.

"Oh, just wonderful, Lucretia. Just wonderful. Never cried, not once. Mostly he just slept. He woke up a few times to be fed or changed, but mostly slept. When I checked just before you came in, he was still fast asleep. It's been a big day for him, I expect."

"For both of us," Hermione replied, a slight, tired smile on her face as she remembered what all had been accomplished thus far. "Thank you, Ernest, you truly went above and beyond today. I promise I won't work you as hard as I did today in the future."

Ernest waved his hand dismissively. "Oh no, I'm happy to help! I like feeling useful," he said, grinning his lopsided, goofy grin, and Hermione couldn't help but grin back. "I'll bid you goodnight, then. I suppose you'll want a few days to spend getting acquainted with your nephew, when should I come in for the Grand Opening of the shop?"

"Two days, I think," Hermione told him. "That should be enough time to get everything in order."

"Delightful, I'll seen you then, Lucretia." He swept into a bow, grabbed his cloak, and exited the flat. Hermione smiled after him. He may have been flamboyant, and almost excessively bubbly, but he was certainly growing on her.

Hermione, now comfortable in her chair by the warm, crackling fire, did not want to get up. But, she needed to check on Harry once more before she could finally rest. So, reluctantly, she got up, and shuffled off to his room. She carefully opened his door, hoping not to wake him, but it did not matter- she found him sitting up in his crib, looking around with his bright green eyes. When he saw her, he gave a happy gurgle, his face stretching into a wide grin, showing the few teeth that had grown. He got unsteadily to his feet, and using one hand to grasp the crib bars so he would stay upright, he stretched the other out, grasping the air, grasping for her, Hermione realized, and her heart began to swell. She crossed the room to the crib in a few paces, and gingerly lifted baby Harry into her arms. He happily settled there, wrapping his chubby arms and legs around her frail body.

Hermione temporarily forgot her situation, that the baby she was holding was her best friend from another life. In that instance, he felt like her own child. She laid her cheek on the top of his head, and inhaled the delicate baby scent. She gently rocked him in her arms as she marveled at the softness of his skin, and as she closed her eyes, she allowed herself, for one fleeting moment, to drift off into a daydream; one where all had gone as it should have, and she was seventy years younger, holding her own baby, surrounded by her friends and family, all alive, and all loving her.

"Mum-ma!"

Hermione was snapped out of her daydream. She looked down at Harry, who was grinning up at her.

"Mum-ma," he repeated, nestling into her collarbone.

Hermione swallowed hard as she tumbled back into reality. She was not twenty-four, she was ninety-four, and this was not her baby. It was the baby form of her best friend, Harry Potter, who had died many years ago in her past, and who she had come back to save. Him among countless others. She was no mother, no wizened grandmother surrounded by her grandchildren. She was an old, broken woman, who had come back through time itself with a job- to save Harry, to save everyone she possibly could. She would never be a mother, or a wife, or a grandmother. She was a woman with a job to do.

"No, Harry, sweetling," She said gently, finally. She lifted him away from her, holding him so that they were looking one another in the face. "I'm not your mummy. She's...not here."

Harry looked at her solemnly, and Hermione could have sworn he was trying his best to understand what she was saying. His brilliant green eyes bore into hers, reminding her of who he was. He was a baby now, unrecognizable from the boy Hermione knew as Harry Potter, but his eyes were the same, the exact same. That helped her remember her purpose. She was not his mother- his mother had died to protect him. But she could still be someone who loved him.

"I'm Auntie. Can you say that? Aun-tie. Come on, sweetling, you can say it, Aun-tie…"

Harry squinted at her, and after a long moment, gurgled, "Aun-tie,"

Hermione smiled, and bounced Harry up and down. "Yes! Auntie! That's me sweetling!" Encouraged by her enthusiasm, Harry grinned, and continued gurgling, "Aun-tie Aun-tie Aun-tie…" Hermione hugged him tight. "Yes, dear, I'm your Auntie." She told him, as she felt a warm rush of pride flood her chest.

For a few minutes more she stayed there, holding Harry, giving him praise every time he called her Auntie. But, the night was late, and Hermione was very, very tired. So she gently set Harry back down in his crib. She was worried he would cry, but he just looked up at her with those green eyes, gave a sleepy smile, and said, "Aun-tie," once more, softly.

"That's right, dear," Hermione replied, as she backed away towards the door. With a swish of her wand, the lights were out. As she was about to exit, she turned, her hand on the door handle. "I'm your Auntie Lucretia." She crossed the threshold and closed the door softly. For a long moment, she stayed just outside the door. There was an odd expression on her face; she looked sad, but also happy. Her smile was small, and her eyes were a touch watery, but her face shone with pride and joy. Then, she swept off to her bedroom, anxious for her bed and sleep.

Hermione did not particularly want to leave her bed the following morning, but with a child to care for and things to do, she didn't have much choice in the matter. Resignedly, she slid out of her bed, padded over to her wardrobe, and slipped on a quilted dressing gown. She went to Harry's room, and found him clutching his crib bars, bouncing he saw he, he immediately began babbling, "Aun-tie! Aun-tie! Aun-tie!"

"Yes yes, sweet, I suppose you're hungry, let's have breakfast," She told him, and crossed to his crib. But just as soon as she got there, she stopped in her tracks, as a foul smell reached her nose. For a second, she wondered what on earth it could be. Then, like a crack on the skull, she realized what an idiot she was.

"Er, actually, you need a change first," Hermione corrected herself. She gazed down at Harry with a doubtful expression, as he looked up her, still babbling, oblivious. Hermione knew this would be a part of raising Harry, but she had always brushed over it in face of the more pressing issues, telling herself how hard can it be? But now that it was time, she knew that she had severely underestimated the task. All she could think of was the fact that she about to change her best friend's dirty nappy. She, Hermione Granger, would be changing the famous Harry Potter's nappies. She cringed. But, it needed to be done. So, hesitantly, she lifted Harry out of his crib, and carried him over to the changing table across the room. She took a deep breath, staring down at Harry, who looked up at her with his innocent smile. Gingerly, she began the unenviable task at hand.

He will be getting toilet-trained as soon as possible, Hermione thought, fifteen minutes later, as she stood in the kitchen preparing breakfast. Changing the dirty nappy was every bit as unpleasant as she had worried- she had seen things concerning her best friend Harry that would have made her girlhood self blush in shame. But, it had to be done, and so it was, and now, finally, it was time for breakfast. Harry was pumping his legs as he sat in his high chair, banging his spoon on his tray as he impatiently awaited his porridge. When Hermione laid a bowl before him, (having carefully tested it herself to make sure it was not too hot) he dug right in, scooping the porridge clumsily onto his spoon, and transporting it messily to his mouth.

"Mmm!" He exclaimed, having tasted it, and obviously approved. Hermione smiled indulgently, and sat down at the table beside him, with her own bowl of porridge. Forgetting the dirty nappy business, it seemed to Hermione that it was going to be a good day.

It would be, better than Hermione could have ever expected. Later that day, during tea, they had visitors that would make a good day something special. Jayne had come over for tea, as expected, toting little Finley. Hermione set Harry on the rug, and the two boys had a ball, playing together with blocks as Hermione and Jayne took their tea and talked. Jayne explained all about the neighbors, and what to expect living along Diagon Alley.

"It's very busy, mind," She said matter-of-factly. "Always something going on, always someone new to meet. It's good for business, which is why my husband, Oscar, and I chose it. We were a bit nervous about how safe it would be, living in such a place, what with our son on the way, but in the nearly four years I've lived here, there's not been a problem. There's four of us in Hooper's circle, now that you've moved in, and so it's actually quite a bit quieter than you'd expect. There's me and Finley, running the consignment store, then there's Madame Bullrush. She runs a specialty potions ingredients shop, and she's a grouchy old bat, but thankfully she keeps to herself. Finally there's the Beades. Twin sisters. They don't have a shop, rather one lives on the first floor, and one lives on the second. They're nice enough, but don't expect to ever see them. They're always off travelling the world, I see them at home maybe two months out of the year."

"What do they do?" Hermione asked.

"Provide Madame Bullrush with her rare potion ingredients. It's the only reason they bother with the house, so they have a base right next to her to return to once they've gathered what she needs. But that's just their way of making money. Mostly, I think they just like seeing the world. Anyways, that's Hooper's Circle for you. I never worry about letting Finley out to play here, or anywhere along Diagon Alley, really. But," She said, leaning forward, "Don't let him anywhere near Knockturn Alley. In fact, I'd recommend you avoid it yourself, it's a dodgy place." She was quiet for a second, before saying, softly, "It's where they attacked my Oscar."

Hermione felt a rush of sorrow, seeing the quiet misery on her new friend's face. She leaned forward, and placed a hand on Jayne's. "I'm so sorry, Jayne. I know how that feels."

Jayne swallowed, and took Hermione's wrinkled hand in her own. "Thank you, Lucretia," she said. "It...has been hard. I haven't had many people to talk to about it, and none who understand. I'm glad you do." Jayne smiled at Hermione, and Hermione smiled back.

"Of course," Hermione replied. "And not to worry, Harry will never set a foot in Knockturn Alley, and likely I will not either, it really is a dre-"

She was cut off by the sound of bells. Hermione looked around, bemused, before remembering that this was essentially her doorbell; someone was at her front door downstairs.

"Who could that be?" She wondered aloud, frowning. "I wasn't expecting anyone."

"Ernest?" Jayne asked.

"I suppose it could be," Hermione replied, "but what's he doing here?" She got up out of her chair as Jayne looked on. "Would you watch them while I go see who it is?" Hermione asked Jayne, as she walked over to her door.

Jayne nodded. "Certainly," she said, and Hermione left the flat. She went down the staircase leading to her shop, and then to the front door. She paused before it, thinking. Was it Ernest? She didn't know who else it could be...could it be an enemy? Hermione's hand tightened cautiously on her wand, as the bell rang again. Taking a deep breath, her wand clutched at her side, Hermione opened the door. Who she saw made her take a step back, but in relief.

"Sirius! Hagrid! What a wonderful surprise!" The two men stood on her stoop, Sirius looking handsome and cheerful, Hagrid looking huge and kindly as ever, too big to fully stand on the stoop beside Sirius. Hagrid looked the same as he always had, as Hermione had always remembered him, but Sirius was a whole different story. The Sirius she had known in her past had been thin and gaunt, with long, matted hair, and fathomless eyes. He had been a man almost ruined by Azkaban. This Sirius was handsome, with a sharp jawline, sleek dark hair, and an easy smile.

"Sirius and Hagrid plus one," Sirius corrected, and he moved aside to reveal his guest.